LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

University  of  California. 

Mrs.  SARAH  P.  WALSWORTH. 

Received  October,  1894. 
cy^ccessions  ^o^^C 3(p.      Class  No.  -, 


PICTURES    OF   HEROES 


LESSONS    FKOM    THEIR    LIVES. 


A  WOMAN'S  GUESS;  OR,  THE  KING  AMONG  TUE  MINE-FOLK, 

"The  while  he  digs  he  talks  so  eloquently,  and  upon  such  stirring  themes,  that  they 
pause,  lean  upon  their  tools,  and  think  they  could  listen  forever  to  the  fine  youth  with  the 
bright  eye  and  the  silvery  speech.  He  has  such  a  noble  mien  also,  such  a  stately  carriage, 
that  they  are  never  weary  of  watching  him.  At  length  (it  is  a  woman's  eye  that  makes 
the  discovery)  it  is  noticed  that  the  collar  of  his  shirt  is  elaborately  embroidered.  That 
is  enough."— Page  135. 


PHILADELPHIA:  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &  CO. 


SVOSta 


G 


< 


\' 


o 


]x 


V 


07 


PEEFACE, 


Some  of  the  more  scenic  incidents  in  the  long  pro- 
cession of  History  have  been  chosen  for  description 
in  the  following  pages.  The  moment  has  generally 
been  selected  when  the  great  man  of  the  age  was  at 
his  greatest,  or  when  the  age  had  most  need  of  its 
great  man. 

Whether  we  regard  the  latter  as  the  doer  of  the 
work,  or  simply  as  the  tool  by  which  the  work  was 
done  when  the  time  was  ripe  for  the  doing  of  it,  it  is 
still  the  Individual  who  arrests  our  sympathies,  and 
who  images  the  time  to  our  apprehensions. 

These  Etudes  offer  no  unity  of  design.  They 
are  as  roving  as  the  steps  of  the  artist  who  wanders 
up  and  down  in  search  of  picturesque  effects,  fill- 
ing  his  sketch-book   at   the   prompting  of  wayward 

fancy. 

(3) 


IV  PKEFACE. 

But  though  the  lesson  of  his  life  be  not  here  made 
to  follow  the  sketch  of  the  hero,  with  the  same 
prefcision  as  the  "moral"  attended  the  winding-up  of 
the  tale  in  the  old  story-books,  yet  the  intelligent 
student  will  not  fail  to  detect  the  teaching  and  to 
supply  the  motto. 

Windermere. 


CONTENTS. 


■*«- 


PAOE 

An  Impebial  Convert 7 

The  Moslem's  Dream;  or,  The  Crescent  on  the  Loire. 29 

Kino  Alfred;  or,  A  Thousand  Years  Ago 45 

Frederic  Barbarossa:   The  "Red-Beard"  of  the  Rhine....     66 

Brother  John  of  Vicenza 109 

Northern  Lights 123 

The  "Snow-King" 143 

Scenes  in  the  Life  of  William  the  Silent 173 

The  Polish  "Wizard" 211 

Innsbbuck  and  its  Echoes;  or.  The  Rescue,  the  Run,  the 
Bribe,  and  the  Ruin 235 

1*  (5) 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FAGK 

King  Alfred  winning  the  Queen's  Manuscript 53 

Barbarossa's  Answer  to  the  Citizens  of  Lodi 78 

The  Pulpit  on  the  Field  of  Paquara 118 

A  Woman's  Guess;  or,  The  King  among  the  Mine-folk 135 

The  Solemn  Farewell 158 

A  Scene  in  the  Life  op  William  the  Silent 204 

"The  Wizard  Himself!"— A  Look  through  the  Windows  of  the  Past 213 


(6) 


AN  IMPERIAL  CONVERT, 


^ 


UFI71 


AN    IMPERIAL    CONVERT. 


Not  many  of  the  great  emperors  of  the  world  have 
been  born  in  the  purple.  Here  is  a  group  of  no  less 
than  six,  crowded  together  at  once,  either  on  the  throne 
of  Roman  empire  or  on  its  steps,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  fourth  century.  Two  have  just  retired  from  active 
rule:  two  proudly  style  themselves  "Augusti;"  and 
two  try  to  satisfy  the  craving  hunger  of  ambition  by 
the  temporary  title  of  "Caesar."  Only  one  of  those 
purple-clad  men  can  fairly  call  himself  nobly  born; 
and  that  one  is  Constantius,  the  father  of  the  Great 
Constantino. 

Diocletian  has  just  withdrawn  himself  from  the  op- 
pressive cares  of  empire,  and  is  inviting  repose  from 
the  exhausting  excitement  of  success  within  the  marble 
halls  of  his  beloved  Salona,  on  the  Dalmatian  shore  of 
the  Adriatic.  But  he  cannot  close  his  ear  to  the  dis- 
tant echoes  of  that  struggle  for  the  mastery  which  is 
ever  maintained  by  the  heirs  of  his  bequeathed  power. 
The  retired  emperor,  who  is  seeking  to  forget  the  past 
by  cultivating  a  race  of  royal  cabbages  in  the  kitchen- 
garden  of  his  retreat,  was  but  the  son  of  a  pair  of 
slaves,  belonging  to  the  household  of  a  Roman  senator. 

(9) 


10  AN    IMPERIAL    CONVERT. 

He  had  persuaded  his  haughty  colleague,  Maximian,  to 
lay  aside,  at  the  same  time  with  himself,  the  white  fillet 
incrusted  with  pearls,  which  was  the  form  of  the  Ro- 
man diadem.  And  so,  on  the  1st  of  May,  305,  the 
philosophic  Diocletian  on  the  crowded  plain  of  Nico- 
media,  and  the  turbulent  Maximian  at  his  own  royal 
city  of  Milan,  divested  their  own  shoulders  of  the  pur- 
ple robe.  Maximian,  the  subordinate  actor  in  these 
remarkable  scenes,  secretly  felt  that  he  was  only  lay- 
ing aside  his  mantle  to  be  in  readiness  for  any  fresh 
wrestling-match  for  imperial  power.  But  the  son  of  a 
peasant  of  Sirmium  was  molded  of  coarser  clay  than 
was  the  son  of  the  household  slave :  and  the  finer  ma- 
terial always  maintained  its  ascendency  over  the  ruder. 

Again,  of  the  two  men  who  assumed  the  imperial 
title  of  "Augustus"  at  the  close  of  the  singular  fes- 
tivities of  Nicomedia  and  of  Milan,  one  of  them,  Va- 
lerius, was  but  a  herdsman,  before  he  was  summoned 
by  Diocletian  to  watch  the  flocks  of  barbarians  who 
were  spreading  along  the  banks  of  the  barrier  Danube, 
and  searching  for  some  gap  in  the  fences  which  guarded 
lUyria.  His  fellow,  "Augustus,"  who  with  himself  had 
previously  filled  the  secondary  rank  of  "Caesar,"  was,, 
as  has  been  said,  the  one  only  member  of  the  group 
who  was  born  of  other  than  plebeian  parents.  Con- 
stantius  was  the  son  of  a  Dardanian  noble,  and  his 
mother  was  the  niece  of  the  Emperor  Claudius. 

The  two  remaining  personages,  Maximin  and  Sev- 
erus,  who  stepped  into  the  royal  rank  of  Caesar  as 
soon  as  their  predecessors  had  become  Augusti,  were 
both  of  obscure  birth :  Maximin  was  the  nephew,  Sev- 
erus  the  trusted  servant,  of  the  herdsman  Galerius.    It 


PLEBEIAN    EMPEROKS.  11 

is  with  the  line  of  the  single  nolAy-born  member  of  the 
group  of  emperors  that  we  have  to  do. 

The  division  of  the  Roman  world  which  had  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  Constantius,  while  he  held  the  dignity  of 
Caesar  under  Diocletian  and  Maximian,  consisted  of 
Gaul,  Spain,  and  Britain;  and  these  Western  prov- 
inces are  still  his  especial  charge,  now  that  he  has 
taken  the  highest  step,  and  seated  himself  on  the 
throne  of  empire.  In  one  of  his  early  missions  to  the 
East,  he  is  said^  to  have  wedded  the  daughter  of  an 
"inn-holder"  (to  use  the  old  expression)  at  Naissus  in 
Dacia.  This  is  thought  to  be  the  most  probable  origin 
of  Helena,  the  celebrated  mother  of  Constantino  the 
Great.  An  earnest  appeal  against  her  ignoble  descent 
has  been  made  by  posterity  to  that  mysterious  Herald's 
Office  which  has  always  been  ready  to  find  an  old  coat 
of  arms  or  to  make  a  new  one  for  any  hero  who  is  in 
want  of  a  good  parentage.  A  shadowy  "King  Coil," 
who  kept  his  court  either  in  Essex,  or  else  hiding  un- 
der the  protecting  wall  of  Antoninus,  was  declared  to 
be  the  rightful  sire  of  the  renowned  lady.  '  Maid  of 
the  inn  in  Dacia,  or  daughter  of  King  Coil  in  Britain, 
whichever  she  may  have  been,  Helena  was  not  long 
permitted  to  share  the  prosperity  of  her  husband 
Constantius.  The  old  Emperor,  Diocletian,  had  in- 
sisted on  her  divorce,  in  order  that  the  Western  Caesar 
might  marry  Theodora,  the  daughter  of  Maximian. 
The  repudiated  wife  consequently  suiTers  total  eclipse, 
until  she  reappears  on  the  scene  as  the  Christian 
mother  of  the  Great  Constantino.  Figures  are  ap- 
pearing and  disappearing  with  confusing  rapidity ;  but 
the  great  events  of  history  are  like  a  series  of  dissolv- 


12  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

ing  views,  the  outlines  of  the  old  scene  melting  dream- 
ily into  the  growing  proportions  of  the  new. 

It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  the  birth-place  of  the 
boy  Constantine  with  full  historical  confidence.  No 
Briton  is  willing  to  renounce  the  belief  that  he  was 
born  at  Eboracum,  the  British  metropolis  of  the 
Roman  period. 

But  the  learned  have  not  left  us  in  quiet  possession 
of  this  idea;  and  Naissus,  the  alleged  birth-place  of 
his  Dacian  mother,  or  Drepanum,  in  the  Gulf  of  Nico- 
media,  to  which  Constantine  afterward  gave  the  name 
of  Helenopolis,  are  advanced  as  formidable  rivals  of 
our  own  York.  At  the  time  of  his  mother's  enforced 
disownment  and  his  own,  Constantine  was  eighteen 
years  of  age.  He  was  gifted  with  a  majestic  stature; 
and  his  supple  strength  had  been  tested  in  personal 
combat  with  a  Sarmatian  athlete,  and  in  a  yet  .more 
formidable  struggle  with  a  huge  lion.  The  jealous 
Galerius  would  not  have  wept  had  the  lad  fallen  be- 
neath the  brute  force  of  either :  for  the  admiring  peo- 
ple of  the  East,  where  he  was  passing  his  apprentice- 
ship to  arms,  had  clamorously  named  their  favorite 
young  chief  as  the  fitting  Caesar.  The  youth  is  in 
peril;  and.  his  father,  who  still  loves  his  first-born, 
whom  he  has  been  forced  to  disown,  longs  to  see  him 
in  safety  by  his  side.  He  dispatches  missive  after 
missive  demanding  the  boy's  presence.  Galerius  would 
fain  have  placed  other  Sarmatians  and  other  lions  in 
his  path,  for  he  mislikes  the  look  of  the  boy.  There  is 
a  hidden  might,  the  energizing  power  of  a  strong  will, 
which  young  Constantine  cannot  wholly  conceal,  how- 
ever tightly  he  may  compress  his  lips,  and  however 


HARD   RIDING.  13 

carefully  he  may  hide  the  fire  of  his  eye  under  the 
pent-house  of  his  brow.  The  youth  is  very  prudent 
and  very  reserved;  and  he  carries  the  honors  of  con- 
stant success  in  all  martial  exercises,  as  well  as  in  the 
serious  struggle  of  war,  with  a  calm  affability  which 
propitiates  his  young  rivals.  That  reserved  young 
hero,  with  his  neglected  intellectual  education,  but 
with  his  fine  physical  gifts  and  undeveloped  force  of 
moral  qualities,  is  quietly  "biding  his  time." 

Years  pass  away.  At  last  Galerius,  no  longer  able 
to  invent  plausible  excuses  for  delay,  yields  to  the 
demands  of  the  Augustus  of  the  West,  and  gives  his 
furlough  to  the  son  of  Constantius.  Constantine 
stealthily  glides  out  of  the  prison-palace  of  Nicomedia 
in  the  dead  of  the  night,  evades  all  the  snares  and  pit- 
falls which  he  suspects  may  lie  in  his  path,  and  gal- 
lops with  almost  inconceivable  speed  through  province 
after  province,  from  the  Roman  world  in  the  East  to 
the  outworks  of  the  Roman  world  in  the  West.  The 
plains  of  Thrace  are  left  behind  clouded  with  dust;  he 
has  scoured  over  Pannonia;  he  has  looked  neither  to 
right  hand  nor  to  left,  as  he  galloped  over  the  glowing 
fields  of  imperial  Italy;  and  half-civilized  Gaul  has 
only  held  him  the  while  he  exchanged  horse  for  horse 
in  rapid  succession.  And  now  he  reaches  the  Gallic 
shore  of  the  British  Channel,  just  as  his  father  is  step- 
ping into  his  galley,  on  the  spot  familiar  to  many  a 
lounging  Englishman,  where  now  stands  the  pier  of 
Boulogne.  The  legions  receive  the  son  of  their  be- 
loved lord  with  enthusiasm ;  and  the  father  rejoices  to 
lean  his  declining  strength  on  the  strong  arm  of  his  son, 
on  this  his  last  expedition  into  Britain.     The  Cale- 

2 


14  AN   IMPEEIAL   CONVERT. 

donians  had  been  troublesome;  and  a  little  Eoman 
discipline  was  needed  by  the  unruly  sons  of  the  mount- 
ains. The  chastisement  administered,  Constantius 
retires  to  his  palace  at  old  Eboracum,  our  English 
York;  and  there  the  amiable  emperor  dies,  surrounded 
by  his  attached  legions,  and  soothed  by  his  favorite 
son.  It  is  July  25,  a.d.  306;  and  that  stately  son  is 
now  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  his  age — a  strong 
man  in  the  fullness  of  his  strength.  This  is  the  hour 
for  which  he  has  been  waiting  in  the  dignified  patience 
of  perfect  self-command.  One  little  farce  he  yet  en- 
acts, and  then  he  firmly  sets  his  face  toward  the  future. 
They  say  that  he  once  more  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
made  as  if  he  would  gallop  away  from  the  allurements 
of  ambition,  as  he  had  formerly  galloped  away  from 
the  snares  of  treachery.  But  he  did  not  ride  far; 
and  soon  he  may  be  seen  before  the  altar  of  that  tem- 
ple of  Bellona,  from  the  dead  roots  of  whose  pagan 
magnificence  sprung  the  beautiful  clustered  shafts  and 
Gothic  arches  of  our  own  Christian  Minster.  The 
stately  devotee  retires  from  the  shrine  of  that  goddess 
whose  office  it  was  to  prepare  the  chariot  of  Mars,  and 
quietly  dispatches  a  letter  to  the  emperor  of  the  East, 
announcing  the  death  of  his  lamented  father,  and  apol- 
ogizing for  the  impetuous  enthusiasm  which  had  driven 
the  chosen  legions  of  the  West  to  throw  around  his 
own  unworthy  form  that  purple  robe  which  had  just 
dropped  from  the  shoulders  of  his  august  father.  The 
rage  of  Galerius  explodes  in  threats  of  burning  both 
the  missive  and  the  messenger.  But  the  unanimous 
choice  of  the  splendid  army  of  the  West  could  not 
safely  be  set  aside ;  and  the  resentment  of  the  herds- 


A  BRIDAL.  15 

^an-emperor  was  forced  to  content  itself  with  appoint- 
ing his  trusty  servant,  Severus,  to  the  full  rank  of 
Augustus,  while  he  acknowledged  Constantino  only 
under  the  inferior  title  of  Caesar.  Again  the  prudent 
Constantino  calmly  "bides  his  time." 

In  the  mean  while  he  loyally  acts  the  part  of  a  pro- 
tector to  the  young  group  of  half-brothers  and  sisters, 
the  children  of  Theodora,  for  whom  his  faithful  care 
had  been  invoked  by  the  dying  voice  of  his  father  and 
theirs.  The  stately  palace  at  old  Eboracum  affords  a 
rare  picture  of  a  "happy  family,"  in  which  the  son  of 
a  repudiated  wife  is  honorably  discharging  the  duties 
of  ^' pater  famiUas"  to  three  royal  boys  and  their 
three  young  sisters,  the  offspring  of  his  mother's  suc- 
cessful rival.  The  marvel  would  be  increased,  could 
we  ascertain  that  Helena  in  person  exchanged  civilities 
with  Theodora. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  which  ensues — where 
crowned  men  are  fiercely  struggling  for  the  mastery — 
we  catch  sight  of  a  bridal  procession.  Maximian,  the 
old  colleague  of  Diocletian,  has  broken  bounds,  and 
gladly  left  the  uncongenial  retirement  of  his  villa. 
Unlike  his  imperial  friend,  he  had  no  taste  for  horti- 
culture ;  and  the  well-known  reply  of  Diocletian,  when 
Maximian  recommended  him  to  return  to  the  world, 
that,  "could  he  behold  the  cabbages  which  he  had  cul- 
tivated at  Salona,  he  would  no  longer  urge  him  to  ex- 
change happiness  for  power,"  had  no  effect  on  his  rest- 
less mind.  He  is  now  courting  the  rising  star  of  the 
West.  "If  he  take  the  trouble  to  cross  the  snows  of 
the  Alps  in  the  winter  of  307,  will  Constantino  leave 
his  contented  Britons,  and  meet  him  in  his  Gallic  city 


16  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

of  Aries?"  Constantine  accepts  the  overture;  and  the 
old  man  and  the  young  salute  each  other  in  that  city 
where  Julius  Caesar  had  built  his  twelve  war  galleys 
for  the  siege  of  Massilia — the  modern  Marseilles.  A 
young  lady  appears  in  the  group,  and  her  hand  is  ne- 
gotiated as  the  soft  pledge  of  peace.  She  is  Fausta,  the 
daughter  of  Maximian.  On  the  thirty-first  of  March, 
the  nuptials  of  Constantine  and  Fausta  are  solemnized 
with  imperial  magnificence.  Under  the  base  of  the 
church  of  Notre  Dame,  in  Aries,  lie  the  foundations 
of  an  ancient  temple  dedicated  to  the  oak-crowned 
Cybele.  This  may  have  been  the  scene  of  the  splen- 
did bridal;  while  the  great  Roman  amphitheater,  which 
could  seat  24,000  spectators,  doubtless  rang  with  the 
peans  of  the  people. 

The  scene  changes  again.  The  turbulent  old  man, 
Maximian,  is  dead;  and  the  circumstances  of  his  de- 
cease breathe  a  staining  rust  on  the  bright  shield  of 
our  Constantine.  He  had  taken  the  opportunity  of 
his  son-in-law's  absence  on  the  troubled  banks  of  the 
Rhine,  to  seize  the  City  of  Aries,  with  all  its  stored- 
up  treasure,  to  declare  the  death  of  Constantine,  and 
to  announce  himself  for  the  third  time  Emperor  of  the 
West.  Constantine's  marvelous  activity  again  saves 
him;  and  he  transports  himself  from  the  northern 
Rhine  to  the  mouth  of  the  southern  Rhone  before  the 
conspiracy  has  matured.  Another  enforced  retirement 
is  pressed  upon  Maximian;  but  this  time  the  white- 
haired  old  man  never  reappears.  If  he  died  by  his 
own  aged  hands,  it  was  but  in  obedience  to  the  stern 
counsel  of  his  son-in-law.  Enough  of  a  painful  story. 
The  emperors  are  dying  fast  now.     The  Roman  eagle 


CONTRADICTORY  OMENS.  17 

is  molting  feather  after  feather  from  his  lagging  wing ; 
but  he  will  soon  take  a  bolder  flight  in  the  fullness  of  a 
new  plumage.  Severus  had  died  a  violent  death  in 
the  year  307;  Constantius  had  died,  as  has  been  told, 
in  comparative  calmness,  in  306 ;  the  ferocious  Galerius 
died  miserably  in  311;  in  313  dies  Diocletian,  the 
arch-persecutor  of  the  despised  followers  of  the  cruci- 
fied "Nazarene."  There  are  three  others  who  have 
started  up  and  exclaimed,  "We  are  kings!"  Maxen- 
tius,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber;  Licinius,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Danube;  Maximin,  in  the  valley. of  the  Nile. 
For  a  brief  space  there  were  six  actually  reigning  at 
once;  The  confusion  is  bewildering  to  our  mind,  as  it 
was  to  the  distracted  people  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
But  the  hour  happily  approaches  when  one  grand 
figure  shall  again  occupy  the  whole  field  of  empire. 

Delegates  from  the  senate  and  from  the  people  of 
Rome  had  crossed  the  Alps,  to  entreat  Constantino  to 
deliver  them  from  the  hated  tyranny  of  Maxentius, 
who  kept  his  court  in  the  Capitol,  but  who  was  pre- 
paring to  attack  Constantino  in  the  heart  of  his  own 
province  of  Gaul.  The  waiting  hero  at  length  reads 
movement  and  victof y  in  the  omens :  the  victim  had 
willingly  followed  to  the  altar  the  steps  of  the  Harus- 
pex;  it  had  meekly  bent  before  the  blow,  and  not  a 
sigh  had  witnessed  its  rebellion  against  the  Fates. 
Again  the  flame,  speedily  kindled,  had  fiercely  con- 
sumed the  sacrifice,  and  had  sprung  up,  bright  and 
clear,  in  shape  like  a  pyramid,  the  true  type  of  the 
fiery  ideal.  And  then,  Constantino  put  his  legions  in 
array,  and  moved  toward  the  ancient  metropolis  of  the 
Roman  world.     Perhaps  it  will  be  the  last  time  that 

2* 


18  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

the  pagan  emperor  will  take  counsel  of  the  aruspiees. 
About  the  same  hour,  Maxentius,  in  Rome,  has  been 
eagerly  questioning  the  Sibylline  Books,  which  had 
been  restored  to  the  treasury  of  the  Capitol,  and  has 
sanguinely  interpreted  in  his  own  favor  a  mysterious 
prediction  which  is  inscribed  on  one  of  the  stray  leaves 
of  Cumae.  Which,  then,  of  the  two  rivals  has  read  the 
future  aright? 

The  Western  world  resounds  with  the  clang  of  war- 
like preparations.  The  Roman  tyrant,  Maxentius, 
numbers  under  his  standard  170,000  foot  and  18,000 
horse;  40,000  of  the  former  are  the  pampered  Praeto- 
rian Guards.  They  were  fitted  to  make  a  martial 
show  in  the  Flavian  amphitheater,  and  to  swell  the 
hoarse  cry,  "Give  the  Christians  to  the  lions:"  they 
were  fitted  to  coerce  the  trembling  people,  and  to 
trample  out  the  first  spark  of  rebellious  feeling;  but 
they  were  ill  fitted  to  grapple  with  the  gladiators  of  the 
North,  who  were  trained  in  perpetual  contests  with  the 
barbarians  of  the  Rhine.  It  is  the  summer  of  the 
year  312;  and  Constantino  is  leading  his  hardy  vet- 
erans over  the  Roman  road  which  was  grooved  in  the 
side  of  Mount  Cenis.  A  breathfess  career  of  victory 
gives  him  Susa,  the  plains  of  Turin,  Milan,  Verona; 
and  on  the  twenty-eighth  day  of  October  he  draws  out 
his  legions  at  Saxa  Rubra,  but  a  few  miles  from  Rome, 
on  that  little  river  Cremera  which  had  long  ago  wit- 
nessed the  death  of  the  three  hundred  Fabii  in  fight 
with  the  people  of  ancient  Veii.  Maxentius  had 
posted  his  troops  with  their  back  to  that  old  "  Father 
Tiber,"  who  is  minded  to  show  no  pity  this  day  to  his 
degenerate  children.     The  stream  from  his  urn  is  run- 


THE   NEW   STANDARD.  19 

ning  strong  and  angrily — tawny  as  the  mane  of  a 
Numidian  lion.  The  river  is  spanned  in  one  only 
place,  where  the  Pons  Milvius  carries  the  "Flaminian 
Way"  into  the  city.  It  is  that  "Ponte  Molle"  by 
which  the  Northern  traveler  of  the  nineteenth  century 
enters  with  bounding  pulse  the  great  memorial  city  of 
the  past.  " 

The  history  of  Constantino  would  be  incomplete 
without  the  marvelous  episode  of  the  Vision.  At 
noonday,  when  the  sun  of  the  South  is  shining  in  his 
strength — in  that  momentous  pause  which  precedes  the 
shock  of  battle — Constantino  looks  upward  to  see  if  the 
eye  of  the  sun-god,  Apollo,  be  looking  propitiously  on 
the  array  of  his  Northern  legions.  He  sees — or,  daz- 
zled by  excess  of  light,  he  thinks  he  sees — a  new  won- 
der in  the  sky.  It  is  a  luminous  cross,  suspended  in 
mid-heaven,  and  inscribed  with  these  legible  words, 
<<£v  rouTU)  vua' — "in  hoc  vince."  Constantino  bows 
his  head  and  worships.  It  is  enough:  victory  is  in- 
sured to  him  who  accepts  that  cross  as  his  ensign,  and 
as  the  symbol  of  his  new-born  faith  in  the  Crucified. 
By  this  sign  he  conquers.  Certain  it  is,  however  we 
may  question  the  authenticity  of  the  story,  that  Con- 
stantino immediately  displays  a  cross,  or  laharum,  as 
his  standard,  and  adopts  the  faith  which  before  he  had 
despised.  It  is  true  that  we  look  in  vain  for  those  in- 
dubitable fruits  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  the  offspring  of 
a  true  conversion,  which  followed  the  memorable  noon- 
day vision  on  the  road  to  Damascus.  But  from  this 
hour  the  mind  and  the  life  of  the  Great  Constantino 
receive  a  new  dedication. 

To  return  to  the  narrative :  Constantino,  conspicuous 


20  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

for  his  gallant  bearing  and  his  glittering  armor,  leads 
his  own  Gallic  horse,  and  speedily,  by  the  irresistible 
shock  of  his  charge,  routs  the  Numidian  horse  of  Max- 
entius.  But  few  of  the  native-born  Italians,  excepting 
the  Praetorians,  care  to  fight  very  lustily  for  a  detested 
master:  they  break  and  fly.  The  Praetorian  Guard, 
hopeless  of  life,  die  where  they  stand;  but  the  mass 
of  the  army  plunges  headlong  into  the  turbid  stream 
of  the  Tiber,  because  the  Milvian  bridge,  choked  with 
fugitives,  refuses  to  carry  them  safely,  across  the  rapid 
river  of  death.  There  is  one  man,  in  splendid  armor, 
wrestling  madly  with  the  living  stream  that  overflows 
the  bridge.  Will  he  force  his  way  through?  No. 
Life  is  as  dear  to  the  meanest  soldier  as  to  him.  He 
is  forced  up  on  the  parapet ;  there  he  clings  for  a  brief 
space  with  the  clutch  of  despair;  at  length  his  very 
hands  are  obliged  to  let  go  their  last  hold  on  life;  he 
drops;  he  sinks  heavily  down  into  the  swollen  stream. 
That  helpless  fugitive  was  the  Emperor  Maxentius, 
son  of  old  Maximian,  and  son-in-law  of  the  herdsman- 
Emperor,  Galerius. 

Constantino  marches  into  Rome,  and  ascends  the 
steps  of  the  Capitol.  That  evening  sees  a  new  stand- 
ard waving  above  the  seven-hilled  city.  The  senate 
and  the  people  come  forth  and  gaze  with  consternation 
at  the  strange  omen.  Other  men  creep  forth,  worn 
and  haggard,  from  the  subterranean  streets  and  dark 
alleys  of  the  catacombs,  and  looking  with  joyful  recog- 
nition at  the  very  ensign  of  their  own  hidden  church, 
"thank  God,  and  take  courage."  The  strange  rumor 
that  the  standard  of  the  Cross  is  in  very  deed  floating 
from  the  Capitol,  penetrates  into  those  barred  dens  at 


GREAT   CHANGES.  21 

the  roots  of  the  Coliseum,  where  the  condemned  Chris- 
tians are  silently  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  next 
great  festival.  The  sullen  walls  of  the  old  Mamertine 
prison  are  not  thick  enough  to  exclude  the  glorious 
tidings  from  the  forgotten  confessors  of  the  faith  of 
Christ,  who  are  languishing  in  its  damp  dungeons. 
The  "Apsis"  of  the  heathen  Basilicse,  which  contained 
an  "Augusteum,"  where  stood  the  sacred  images  of 
those  Caesars  to  whom  divine  honors  were  wont  to  be 
paid,  receives  on  that  great  Roman  morrow  a  fresh 
consecration.  The  marble  Basilica  itself  becomes  a 
church  of  Christ.  Coins  of  the  empire  are  struck, 
bearing  the  figure  of  the  laharum,  or  imperial  stand- 
ard, with  the  monogram  of  Christ  triumphantly  placed 
above  the  conquered  dragon.  The  tesselated  pave- 
ments of  the  Roman  dwellings  receive  the  symbol  of 
the  Cross,  set  in  many-colored  mosaic.  From  the  pur- 
ple valleys  of  the  Apennines — from  the  wild  gorges  of 
the  Alps — along  the  Via  Appia,  the  Via  Flaminia,  the 
Emilia — springs  the  Cross,  as  the  new  way-mark  of  the 
Roman  world.  And  though  superstition,  the  constitu- 
tional failing  of  unrenewed  human  nature,  prepares  to 
take  a  new  form,  and  deserting  the  polluted  rites  of 
heathen  mythology,  fondly  adores  the  material  sign, 
instead  of  the  Saviour,  which  is  signified — yet  in  all, 
and  under  all,  let  us  thank  God  for  Constantino ! 

If  the  immediate  union  of  the  Church  with  the  State 
did  in  very  truth  somewhat  secularize  the  former,  it 
certainly  imparted  a  new  religious  tone  to  the  latter. 
If  a  race  of  hypocrites  were  forthwith  fabricated,  yet 
the  iniquities  of  persecution  ceased  throughout  the 
whole  Roman  Empire.     The  establishment  of  Constan- 


90. 


AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 


tine  and  of  Christianity  was  immediately  followed  by 
a  conference  between  our  Christian  hero  and  Licinius, 
the  unconverted  Illyrian  Emperor ;  and  at  this  confer- 
ence the  famous  Edict  of  Milan  was  agreed  on.  The 
great  principle  of  universal  toleration  was  therein  pro- 
claimed ;  religious  and  civil  liberty  were  given  to  the 
Christians;  their  lands,  which  had  been  confiscated, 
were  restored;  their  places  of  public  worship,  which 
had  been  destroyed,  were  rebuilt  at  the  expense  of  the 
State;  and  the  right  of  private  judgment  was  secured 
to  every  man.  To  use  the  glowing  language  of  Euse- 
bius,  "  Christianity  lightened  like  a  sunbeam  over  the 
earth." 

The  Praetorian  Guard,  ever  a  ready  instrument  of 
oppression  in  the  hand  of  a  tyrant,  was  wholly  sup- 
pressed; measures  were  taken  preparing  the  way  for 
the  extinction  of  slavery;  edicts  were  sent  forth  check- 
ing exorbitant  usury;  and  the  character  of  punish- 
ments was  rendered  more  consistent  with  the  humane 
spirit  of  the  Christian  faith. 

The  great  event  of  his  life  accomplished,  Constan- 
tino remained  not  long  in  Rome.  Only  twice  did  he 
afterward  revisit  the  scene  of  his  conversion — when  he 
returned  to  celebrate  the  tenth  and  the  twentieth  anni- 
versaries of  his  prosperous  reign.  He  was  perpetually 
making  progresses  through  his  vast  dominions.  The 
Franks  employed  his  activity  on  the  Rhine;  and  a 
successful  struggle  with  Licinius,  now  Emperor  of  the 
East,  called  out  all  his  powers.  Licinius  is  at  last 
thoroughly  subdued,  and,  dying,  leaves  the  Great  Con- 
stantino undisputed  lord  of  the  whole  Roman  Empire, 
from  the  land  of  the  sunrise  to  the  sunset  waves  of  the 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  EAST.  23 

"west.  This  complete  reunion  of  the  empire  signalizes 
the  year  324,  leaving  the  emperor  at  liberty  to  be- 
come a  somewhat  officious  foster-father  to  the  church. 
But  into  the  heartburnings  caused  by  the  great  Arian 
heresy,  the  limits  of  a  sketch  will  not  allow  us  to  enter. 
The  idea  of  building  a  splendid  metropolis  of  the 
Eastern  world  had  long  been  taking  form  in  the  mind 
of  the  emperor.  Not  at  first  did  the  developed 
thought  root  itself  in  the  soil  of  old  Byzantium. 
It  is  said  that  the  imperial  architect  took  his  plans  and 
his  stakes  to  Chalcedon  in  Asia ;  but  that,  while  he 
was  pacing  up  and  down  with  measuring  line  in  hand, 
an  eagle  swept  suddenly  down,  "scouped  at  the  line," 
(that  was  the  word,)  and  bore  it  away  over  the  water 
to  the  western  shore  of  the  Bosphorus.  Constantine 
immediately  gathered  up  his  stakes  (the  thing  seeming 
ominous)  and  began  to  dig  the  foundations  of  New 
Rome.  On  the  shore  of  that  beautiful  harbor,  which 
was  called  by  the  Greeks  Chrysoceras,  or  the  "  Golden 
Horn,"  Byzas,  some  hundreds  of  years  before  the 
Christian  era,  had  founded  a  city  to  which  he  be- 
queathed his  name — Byzantium.  Here  Constantine 
determined  to  plant  his  seat  of  empire.  The  New 
Rome,  like  the  Old,  might  count  her  seven  hills;  but, 
unlike  her  declining  mother,  the  brilliant  Queen  of 
the  East  could  boast  of  waters  which  brought  the  com- 
merce of  the  world,  and  left  its  riches  on  the  very 
door-steps  of  her  marble  palaces.  She  could  point  to 
the  two  flood-gates  of  her  magnificent  port,  which  she 
could  lock  or  open  at  her  will — the  Hellespont  on  one 
hand,  the  Bosphorus  on  the  other;  while  a  few  light 
strokes  of  the  oar  would   send   her  galleys  from  the 


24  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

shore  of  one  continent  to  the  answering  bank  of 
another.  Mistress  of  the  East  and  of  the  West,  it  is 
no  marvel  that  to  his  own  beautiful  workmanship  Con- 
stantino intrusted  the  memory  of  his  own  great  name. 
He  withdrew  the  first  inscription  of  "New  Rome" 
from  her  walls,  and  he  wrote  "Constantinople"  in- 
stead. But  Constantino,  by  founding  his  new  metrop- 
olis, is  unconsciously  severing  the  East  from  the  West ; 
their  interests  are  no  longer  one;  their  very  religion 
takes  a  different  form. 

Latin  Christianity,  the  Latin  Empire,  the  Latin 
tongue,  gather  themselves  to  their  one  center  in  Old 
Rome;  Greek  Christianity,  the  Greek  Empire,  the 
Greek  language,  sit  down  with  the  Queen  of  the  East 
on  her  new  throne  beside  the  Bosphorus.  There  is  a 
Pope  in  Rome — a  Patriarch  in  Constantinople. 

It  would  be  gratifying  could  a  clearer  view  be  caught 
of  the  person  and  history  of  Helena,  after  her  son  be- 
came the  great  man  of  the  world.  But  it  is  chiefly  as 
a  founder  of  splendid  Christian  churches,  and  as  a 
fond  collector  of  sacred  relics,  that  she  from  time  to 
time  appears.  She  would  seem  to  have  been  an  earn- 
est convert,  but  an  unenlightened  Christian,  though 
she  was  constantly  "burning  the  lamp  of  sacrifice," 
to  use  Ruskin's  well-known  expression.  Trimmed  by 
her  own  hand,  it  burned  in  a  splendid  church  which 
she  raised  at  Jerusalem.  It  burned  in  the  Basilica  of 
"Santa  Croce  in  Gerusalemme"  at  Rome,  with  whose 
foundations  she  mingled  earth  which  she  had  rever- 
ently transported  from  the  Holy  City,  and  within 
whose  walls  she  placed  a  relic  that  was  received  and 
venerated  as  a   portion  of    the   true   cross.     Within 


THE   <^LAMP   OF    SACRIFICE."  25 

this  Basilica,  the  "golden  rose,"  which  the  popes  of 
after-ages  used  to  send  annually  to  that  one  of  the 
sovereigns  of  Europe  who  happened  to  be  in  the 
highest  odor  as  a  loyal  son  of  the  church,  was  brought 
to  receive  consecration.  At  last  Helena's  lamp  went 
out,  and  we  have  in  its  stead  the  sarcophagus  which  was 
found  in  her  tomb  outside  the  Porta  Maggiore,  and 
which  now  enriches  the  uncounted  treasures  of  the 
Vatican.  It  bears  portraits  of  the  mother  and  of  the 
son. 

But  now  the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of  the  £rst 
Christian  emperor  are  moving  on  apace.  Prosperity 
had  not  been  borne  with  the  meekness  which  becomes 
the  Christian  character,  nor  with  the  calm  self-posses- 
sion which  might  have  been  anticipated  from  the  prom- 
ise of  his  youth.  Worldly  ambition  still  clung  about 
the  heart  of  him  who  had  assumed  the  symbol  and 
accepted  the  doctrines  of  the  cross.  But  in  the  face 
of  a  humiliating  array  of  faults  and  inconsistencies, 
Christianity  may  safely  challenge  heathendom  to  pro- 
duce another  Constantine. 

In  accordance  with  the  superstitious  habit  of  the  age, 
which  was  beginning  to  attach  to  the  waters  of  baptism 
the  idea  of  inherent  efficacy,  and  to  which  the  candi- 
date resorted  as  to  a  cleansing  process  at  the  close  of 
a  long  day's  walk  on  the  dusty  road  of  life,  Constan- 
tine had  delayed  his  immersion  until  the  warning  ap- 
proaches of  mortal  illness.  This  was  in  the  thirtieth 
year  of  his  reign,  and  the  sixty-fourth  of  his  age. 
It  is  presumed  that  the  solemn  rite  was  admiinistered 
at  his  palace  in  the  suburbs  of  Nicomedia:  for  it 
was  here  that  he  received  a  summons  to  "render  an 

3 


26  AN   IMPERIAL   CONVERT. 

account  of  his  stewardship."  But  in  the  baptistery 
of  St.  John  Lateran  at  Rome,  that  church  which  arro- 
gantly calls  itself  "  urbis  et  orbis  ecclesiarum  mater  et 
caput,"  ('^mother  and  head  of  the  churches  of  the  city 
and  of  the  world,")  there  is  an  enormous  vase  of  por- 
phyry, which  has  been  traditionally  held  from  the  ear- 
liest ages  to  be  the  baptismal  font  of  Constantino.  It 
was  probably  transported  from  the  East,  and  reverently 
placed  in  that  church,  whose  foundations  Constantino 
assisted  in  digging  with  his  own  hands.  It  was  in 
this  immense  porphyry  font  that  Rienzi,  in  the  intox- 
ication of  ephemeral  power,  bathed  himself  on  the 
night  of  August  1,  134T,  and  then  summoned  Pope 
Clement  XII.  and  the  Electors  of  Germany  to  appear 
before  him  in  the  Capitol  of  revived  Rome.  Revived? 
She  was  but  galvanized  into  the  semblance  of  life. 
Constantino  had  resorted  to  Nicomedia,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  restoring  his  far-worn  strength  by  bathing  in 
the  warm  baths  of  the  place.  But  a  frame  exhausted 
by  extreme  mental  and  bodily  activity  admitted  of  no 
further  repair;  and  on  the  22d  of  May,  337,  he  died, 
in  the  full  profession  of  the  Christian  faith,  and,  if  we 
may  receive  the  testimony  of  his  Christian  friends, 
showing  many  signs  of  a  deep  devotion.  And  then 
followed  that  solemn  mockery,  in  which  poor  mortality 
had  still  to  play  an  imperial  part.  The  dead  emperor, 
robed  in  his  purple  and  crowned  with  his  diadem,  was 
supported  on  a  couch  of  gold,  in  a  magnificent  hall  of 
his  new  palace,  in  his  new  city  on  the  Bosphorus,  to 
which  he  was  after  death  removed.  Day  after  day  a 
long  procession  of  the  great  men  of  the  land  came, 
with  solemn  tread  and  bent  brow,  to  offer  homage  on 


THE   SILENT   LEVEE.  27 

bended  knee  at  this  silent  levee  of  the  dead.  The  old 
metropolis  of  the  West  sent  its  senators  to  entreat  that 
the  dust  might  be  intrusted  to  their  keeping.  But  the 
men  of  the  East  prevailed;  and  when  the  days  were 
accomplished  for  the  dead  to  receive  the  hollow  rever- 
ence of  the  living,  Constantine  was  laid  in  the  tomb 
which  he  had  built  for  this  hour,  in  his  "  Church  of  the 
Holy  Apostles,"  at  Constantinople.  Eleven  centu- 
ries after  his  death  the  sweeping  tide  of  Moslem  inva- 
sion came  up  and  settled  upon  the  land.  From  the 
ruins  of  the  "Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles"  sprung 
up  the  mosque  of  Sultan  Mohammed  II.;  and  beside 
the  great  entrance  gate  may  still  be  read  in  letters  of 
gold  the  legend,  which  is  said  to  be  a  prediction  of  the 
prophet,  "They  will  capture  Constantinople;  and 
happy  the  prince,  happy  the  army  which  accomplishes 
this." 

What  conqueror  will  next  read,  and  interpret  on  his 
own  behoof,  this  "Golden  Legend"  of  the  prophet? 


THE  MOSLEM'S  DREAM; 


THE    CRESCENT   ON    THE   LOIRE. 


3* 


THE    MOSLEM'S    DREAM; 


THE  ORESCENT  ON  THE  LOIRE. 


In  turning  over  the  maps  of  the  continental  nations 
— of  France,  Italy,  Germany,  Spain — ^you  can  scarcely 
drop  your  finger  on  a  single  spot,  without  finding,  on 
inquiry,  that  this  city,  or  that  broad  plain,  or  this 
swelling  height,  has  witnessed  some  stirring  scene  in 
the  grand  procession  of  history.  The  map  of  France 
lies  open,  and,  blindfold,  chance  may  have  alighted  on 
that  beautiful  portion  of  the  land  which  is  called  by  its 
fond  people  "The  Garden  of  France."  It  is  a  fine 
champaign  country,  pleasant  in  its  natural  features, 
and  lovingly  kept  and  tended  by  the  careful  hand  of 
cultivation.  It  is  not  only  watered  by  the  Loire,  but 
it  is  made  green  and  fresh  by  other  irrigating  streams 
— the  Indre,  the  Cher,  the  Vienne.  There  are  rich 
slopes,  green  with  vineyards,  and  purple  with  their 
grapes;  there  are  reaches  of  pasture-land,  all  smiling 
with  plenty;  there  are  a  few  bosky  knolls,  and  some 
fine  sweeps  of  dark  forest-land.  The  sunny  paths  and 
shady  wood-walks  of  this  "garden"  are  overlooked  by 
fine  old  chateaux,  the  pleasure  houses  and  fortresses 
of  the  past.  There  are  historic  cities,  likewise,  to 
guard   this   "faire   pleasaunce" — such   as   Tours  and 

(31) 


32  THE   MOSLEM'S   DREAM. 

Blois,  Amboise  and  Poitiers.  It  is  Tours,  the  heart 
of  the  ancient  Touraine,  which  we  are  going  to  ques- 
tion concerning  what  it  knows  of  past  history. 

The  reply  points  immediately  at  one  of  the  greatest 
crises  in  the  story  of  the  world.  Its  date,  then? 
The  year  732.  But  what  power  can  an  event,  which 
happened  in  the  center  of  France  in  the  early  half  of 
the  eighth  century,  hold  over  our  mental  health  or  our 
bodily  weal  here  in  this  Britain  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury? "Much,  every  way,"  is  the  confident  answer; 
and  "chiefly,  because"  to  us  at  this  day  "belong  the 
lively  oracles  of  God."  If  it  be  a  privilege  to  be  read- 
ing our  own  Bible  "in  our  own  tongue  wherein  we 
were  born,"  beside  our  own  quiet  hearth,  instead  of 
kneeling  on  a  little  square  "prayer- carpet,"  wath  our 
face  bowed  toward  Mecca:  if  it  be  something  to  listen 
to  the  teachings  of  holy  Scripture  in  every  church  and 
chapel  of  the  land,  instead  of  hearing  some  turbaned 
Mufti  expound  the  Koran  in  some  domed  mosque;  if 
the  fire  be  blazing  upon  a  peaceful  hearth,  and  the  ket- 
tle humming  its  national  song,  instead  of  the  Muezzin 
sounding  from  the  top  of  a  column  in  every  city  and 
town;  in  fine,  if,  instead  of  calling  this  "the  year  of 
grace  1859,"  we  were  writing  "the  so-and-so  of  He- 
gira,"  we  owe  something,  in  the  overruling  providence 
of  God,  to  the  issue  of  the  great  battle  of  Tours. 

Testimony  to  the  importance  which  is  here  attributed 
to  this  event  may  be  found  in  the  works  of  many  of  our 
best  authors.  But  it  is  needful  to  retrace  some  portion 
of  the  way  by  which  the  Crescent,  which  had  risen 
over  the  sandy  plains  of  Arabia,  had  traversed  the 
western  sky,  until  it  had  set  in  clouds  on  the  evening 


WHAT   MIGHT   HAVE    BEEN.  33 

of  the  seventh  day  of  battle  before  Tours.  As  early 
as  the  year  709,  the  coast  of  Andalusia  had  been  vis- 
ited by  Saracenic  vessels.  They  called  the  beautiful 
region  "Handalusia,"  "the  land  of  the  evening" — that 
is,  the  West,  the  realm  of  the  sunset;  answering  to 
the  Hesperia  of  Grecian  poetry.  Mu^a  was  the  name 
of  the  Arab  chief  who  subdued  the  wild  Moors  of 
Northern  Africa,  (those  restless  people  of  old  Mauri- 
tania,) and  made  them  learn  lessons  from  the  Koran 
on  their  bended  knees.  Thenceforth  Moors  and  Arabs 
were  one.  They  then  looked  across  the  narrow  strait 
from  the  southern  Pillar  of  Hercules,  and  devoured 
with  greedy  eyes  the  orange  gardens  which  spread 
behind  the  pillar  on  the  opposite  shore.  There  was  a 
traitor,  calling  himself  Christian,  who  beckoned  the 
Moor  to  cross  the  narrow  trench.  It  was  Count  Julian, 
the  Goth.  He  also  held  for  his  Spanish  lord  the  cita- 
del of  Ceuta,  which  stood  on  the  African  shore,  and 
which  had  repulsed  the  Arab  from  its  walls  when  he 
was  in  full  career.  Thus  Count  Julian  had  two  keys 
hanging  from  his  belt;  he  could  unlock  the  barred 
doors  of  two  opposing  continents.  Perhaps  he  had 
private  wrongs  to  avenge;  perhaps  he  felt  the  heav- 
ings  of  political  ambition.  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  secret  spring  of  his  traitorous  conduct,  he  wel- 
comed the  cimeter  and  the  Koran  into  Europe;  and 
there,  at  least  in  Julian's  own  southwestern  corner  of 
the  continent,  they  maintained  a  restless  existence  for 
some  eight  hundred  years. 

The  kingdom  of  the  now  luxurious  Visi- Goths  was 
an  easy  conquest  to  men  who  had  pricked  their  steeds 
over  Persia  and  Syria,  over  Egypt  and  the  North  of 


34  THE    MOSLEM'S   DREAM. 

Africa,  without  drawing  bridle.  In  the  spring  of  the 
year  711,  a  body  of  veteran  Moslems,  under  their  bold 
leader  Tarik,  planted  foot  on  the  famous  rock  ever 
afterward  called  Gebel-al-Tarik — the  Mount  of  Tarik — 
our  own  defiant  Gibraltar.  The  Moors'  hasty  entrench- 
ments were  the  foundation  of  those  extraordinary  for- 
tifications which  have  been  a  wonder  of  the  world. 
E-oderic,  the  king  of  the  Gothic  Christians,  moved  in 
regal  guise  to  the  defense  of  his  land,  in  robes  spark- 
ling with  pearls  and  gold,  reposing  in  a  car  of  ivory 
drawn  by  two  milk-white  mules.  He  had  a  hundred 
thousand  men  around  him;  but  they  were  enervated 
by  luxury,  and  spoiled  by  long  prosperity  in  a  delicious 
land.  They  were  drawn  up  on  the  sunny  plain  of 
Xeres,  looking  contemptuously  at  those  "presumptu- 
ous strangers"  whom  Roderic  had  commanded  should 
be  "seized  and  bound."  Perhaps  the  famed  wine  of 
Xeres,  whose  vats  were  the  fountain  of  the  "sherry" 
of  after-times,  had  somewhat  impaired  the  clearness  of 
their  vision. 

For  several  consecutive  days  the  Crescent  and  the 
Cross  met  in  mortal  conflict  on  the  banks  of  the  Gua- 
dalete.  At  the  close  of  the  struggle,  the  Gothic  king 
sprung  from  his  ivory  car,  mounted  his  fleet  Orelio, 
one  of  the  old  favorites  of  song,  and  escaped  with 
bare  life.  Orelio  was  afterward  found,  lying  worn  and 
wounded,  beside  his  master's  pearly  diadem  and  silken 
robes : — 

"His  tremulous  cry,  far  echoing  loud  and  shrill, 
A  frequent,  anxious  cry,  with  which  he  seemed 
To  call  the  master  he  had  loved  so  well." 

Whether    Roderic    plunged   to   hide   his    dishonored 


XERES — THE   CRESCENT   IN   THE   ASCENDANT.      35 

head  beneath  the  waters,  as  the  historians  say,  or 
whether  he  lived  to  bemoan  himself  in  the  mountains 
of  Galicia,  as  the  poets  tell  us,  we  may  not  now 
determine.  But  one  of  the  very  oldest  ballads  of 
chivalrous  Spain,  quoted  and  parodied  by  Cervantes, 
and  rendered  with  great  spirit  by  Lockhart,  gives  him 
these  mournful  words : — 

"  Last  night  I  was  the  King  of  Spain — to-day  no  king  am  I ; 
Last  night  fair  castles  held  my  train — to-night  where  shall  I  lie  ? 
Last  night  a  hundred  pages  did  serve  me  on  the  knee — 
To-night  not  one  I  call  mine  own — not  one  pertains  to  me." 

It  takes  the  Saracen  but  a  few  months  to  plant  the 
Crescent  upon  the  towers  of  every  city  of  Spain,  from 
Gebel-al-Tarik  to  the  rocks  which  are  white  with  the 
foam  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  The  Sierra  Morena  was 
but  a  rampart  over  which  he  leaped  his  barb  at  a 
bound.  Even  the  royal  City  of  Toledo  only  defends 
itself  by  parleys  and  stipulations;  and  the  last  surviv- 
ors of  Gothic  chivalry  are  hiding  amid  the  wild  mount- 
ains of  Asturias.  Those  hunted  fugitives  are  jealously 
guarding  the  germ  of  the  future  Spanish  monarchy; 
and  if  the  Moor  be  driven  back  to  his  own  Barbary 
eight  centuries  after  the  field  of  Xeres,  it  is  because 
Pelayo,  of  the  seed-royal  of  Visi- Goths,  has  kept  alive, 
amid  the  Northern  wilds,  the  hope  of  founding  the 
future  Catholic  throne  of  Spain. 

Mu9a  improved  the  conquests  of  his  brilliant  lieu- 
tenant, Tarik,  and  indulged  the  vision  of  binding  Gaul 
and  Germany,  Rome  and  Constantinople,  in  a  broad 
girdle  of  dominion  to  Damascus,  at  that  time  the  royal 
heart  of  Islamism.     The  illusion  was  broken  before 


86  THE  Moslem's  dream. 

the  hour  of  realization  could  come;  for  Muga's  own 
star  set  in  disgrace,  and  that  of  a  rival  was  for  the 
hour  in  the  ascendant.  But  the  dream  of  Moslem 
sway  over  Europe  was  only  delayed  for  some  twenty 
years,  to  be  resumed  in  the  night  visions  of  Abd-ur- 
rahman,  :n  the  year  732.  Just  a  century  had  com- 
pleted iU  course  since  the  death  of  Mohammed;  and 
here  are  the  cimeters  of  his  followers  flashing  to  the 
sun  in  the  lucent  atmosphere  of  Central  Gaul.  Is 
there  anything  betwixt  the  Pyrenees  and  the  English 
Channel  that  is  firm  enough  to  turn  their  edge  ?  The 
Franks,  originally  Teutons  who  had  come  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine,  had  been  molding  the  rugged 
materials  around  them  into  the  form  of  a  kingdom; 
but  their  kings  are  naught.  They  are  of  the  Merovin- 
gian race;  but  they  have  degenerated  into  mere  phan- 
toms of  royalty,  so  helpless,  that  the  "lazy  kings" 
C'rois  faineants")  is  the  disrespectful  title  by  which 
these  descendants  of  old  Clovis  are  still  known.  They 
are  always  under  tutelage;  and  the  "Mayor  of  the 
Palace"  is  the  great  man  of  the  land,  who  wields  the 
true  scepter  of  power,  while  he  leaves  a  gilded  likeness 
thereof  in  the  feeble  hand  of  his  king.  He  certainly 
allows  him  a  country  house,  near  that  Compiegne 
whose  lazy  luxuries  are  so  familiarly  known  to  our 
modern  times.  And  early  in  each  spring  he  settles  his 
crowned  puppet  comfortably  in  a  roomy  wagon,  which 
is  dragged  leisurely  by  four  sleek  oxen  through  the 
forest  paths,  in  order  to  carry  the  Chilperic  or  Childeric 
of  the  day  to  the  great  assembly  of  the  Franks.  There 
the  shadow  of  royalty  holds  a  sort  of  languid  "bed  of 
justice,"  has  his  ceremonious  levees,  and  placidly  con- 


THE   ARABS   AND    THEIR    FAMILIES.  37 

firms  the  foregone  edicts  of  his  haughty  "major-domo." 
Pepin  d'Heristhal  had  planted  so  firm  a  foot  upon  the 
floors  of  the  palace,  that  he  was  able  to  bequeath  his 
office  as  an  heir-loom  in  his  house.  Charles,  who  hereaf- 
ter earns  his  knightly  surname  of  Martel,  or  the  "  Ham- 
mer," on  the  portentous  field  of  Tours,  is  the  present 
representative  of  this  powerful  family,  the  founder  of 
the  Carlovingian  line,  and  grandsire  of  Charlemange 
himself. 

The  Arabs  have  brought  their  wives,  their  children, 
and  all  their  movable  treasure  with  them,  over  the 
fastnesses  of  the  Pyrenees.  They  are  evidently  bent 
upon  establishing  themselves  as  settlors.  They  have 
with  them  their  Persian  "prayer-carpets,"  and  their 
piles  of  shawls  from  the  looms  of  Cashmere,  their 
vases  of  attar  distilled  from  the  rose-gardens  of  Shiraz, 
their  jeweled  Damascus  daggers  and  Toledo  blades, 
and  their  flying  steeds  from  Arabia  and  Barbary; 
while  the  vailed  wives  and  daughters  are  ambling  along 
on  the  beautiful  palfreys  of  Andalusia.  Yes — this 
looks  like  "settling."  This  is  no  mere  summer  excur- 
sion. Those  turbaned  strangers  are  stroking  their 
swarth  faces,  and  saying,  "Allah  achbar!  God  is 
great !  for  he  has  given  this  fair  land  to  the  prophet  ^ 
and  to  his  servant  the  caliph.  Allah  kareem!  God  is 
merciful!" 

See,  how  firmly  those  Saracen  youths,  the  flower  of 
Moslem  chivalry,  sit  in  their  high-peaked  saddles,  their 
feet  resting  in  the  short  stirrup  of  the  East !  Even  at 
this  very  day,  in  this  nineteenth  century,  you  may  see 
their  type  scouring  over  the  hot  sands  of  Arabia;  for 
the  Arab  is  ever  essentially  the  same.     The  mold  is 

4 


38  THE  Moslem's  dream. 

never  broken.  "His  hand  against  every  one,  and 
every  one's  hand  against  him,"  he  is  still  the  outcast 
son  of  Hagar. 

These  Moslems,  who  are  now  scouring  Gascony  and 
Languedoc,  and  even  Poitou,  have  brought  their  learned 
Hakims  with  them,  to  heal  the  wounded  and  to  cure 
the  sick.  They  have  incumbered  themselves  with  the 
spoils  of  the  Castilian  churches,  as  well  as  with  the 
new  booty  of  the  Frankish  altars.  The  famed  table 
-  of  emerald,  which  had  been  transported  originally  from 
the  East,  and  had  formed  a  part  of  some  Roman  tri- 
umph, and  which  had  then  been  plundered  by  the  Goths, 
had  before  this  time  been  sent  back  again  by  the 
Arabs  to  the  East,  and  now  took  its  place  among  the 
uncounted  treasures  of  the  caliph's  palace  at  Damas- 
cus. But  though  the  pick  of  the  booty  had  been  dis- 
patched as  tribute  to  the  fountain  of  Moslem  power, 
these  glittering  squadrons  are  still  heavy  with  Christian 
plunder.  And  yet  Abd-ur-rahman  is  a  severe  disciplin- 
arian in  his  way,  and  he  holds  his  vast  army  well  in 
hand.  His  splendid  body  of  Berber  cavalry  is  held  in 
by  bit  and  bridle,  or  let  loose  by  the  shaking  of  his 
rein,  just  as  he  manages  his  own  beautiful  barb  by  that 
^powerful  bit  which  still  belongs  to  the  sons  of  the 
desert.  Count  Eudes  of  Aquitaine  had  tried  to  meet 
the  shock,  with  his  lance  in  rest  and  his  visor  closed; 
but  twice  had  he  been  overthrown.  Not  only  has  the 
Rhone  swept  thousands  of  dead  Christians  into  the 
Mediterranean  on  the  south,  and  the  Garonne  and 
Dordogne  carried  thousands  more  past  the  foundations 
of  Bordeaux  on  the  west,  but  the  Crescent  has  been 
gleaming  as  far  to  the  north  as  the  walls  of  Sens,  and 


ABD-UR-RAHMAN.  39 

to  the  east  as  the  City  of  Besan§on,  which  faces  the 
barrier  mountains  of  Switzerland.  Christendom  is  in 
mortal  peril.  Abd-ur-rahman  is  now  laying  siege  to 
Tours.  But  the  remarkable  man,  who  is  preparing  to 
confront  him,  is  Charles,  son  of  Pepin  d'Heristhal, 
hereditary  Mayor  of  the  Palace.*  He  had  already 
led  a  busy  life,  before  the  coming  of  the  Moslem;  be- 
cause the  still  heathen  Frisians,  Saxons,  and  Thurin- 
gians  had  been  giving  him  great  trouble  on  the  banks 
of  the  Elbe  and  of  the  Rhine.  A  fine  body  of  veteran 
Franks,  taught  in  German  campaigns,  follows  his 
standard;  but  they  are  only  a  militia,  who  will  dis- 
perse to  their  own  homes  as  soon  as  the  term  of  ser- 
vice expires,  for  as  yet  there  was  no  standing  army  in 
France. 

Charles  leads  his  force  down  upon  this  beautiful 
"garden-ground"  of  France,  which  has  been  before 
described,  and  suddenly  deploys  from  behind  the  cover 
of  a  range  of  hills,  before  the  confident  hosts  of  the 
infidel.  That  host  is  swollen  by  unknown  numbers  of 
Frankish  captives.  It  is  the  115th  year  of  the  Hegira, 
the  732d  summer  of  the  Christian  era.  They  have  a 
seven  days'  struggle  before  them:  it  is  a  struggle  for 
truth  and  life  on  the  one  side;  for  the  dominion  of 
Mohammed  and  the  Koran  on  the  other.  There  are* 
two  creeds  at  issue — two  tongues — two  continents,  nay 

*  Charles  sometimes  vouchsafed  to  throw  the  shadow  of  his 
protection  over  his  king,  and  sometimes  he  dispensed  with  the 
phantom  altogether,  just  as  the  policy  of  the  hour  dictated. 
Theodoric  IV.  was  supposed  to  be  king  in  Neustria  at  this  junc- 
ture, and  Chlotaire  IV.  was  occasional  king  in  Charles's  own 
Austrasia. 


40  THE    MOSLEM  S    DREAM. 

three;  for  Northern  Africa,  as  well  as  Asia,  has  been 
pressed  into  the  mele^  on  the  side  of  the  false  pro- 
phet. On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  the  result  is 
doubtful.  The  impetuous  charge  of  the  Moslem  horse 
has  been  everywhere  successful  for  the  moment.  But 
Charles  and  his  Franks,  backed  by  the  stout  Germans, 
always  close  in  again,  and  recover  their  lost  footing. 
At  last,  night  brings  its  own  dusky  flag  of  truce,  and 
the  two  hosts  sleep.  The  Arabs  are  covered  by  their 
tents — perhaps  they  are  the  dark  goat-hair  tents  of 
the  East,  which  have  crossed  the  Nile  and  the  narrow 
strait  of  Gebel-al-Tarik,  in  order  to  shiver  to  the  sum- 
mer night-wind  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire.  Charles, 
on  the  other  hand,  has  his  City  of  Tours  behind  him — 
Tours,  where  stood  the  old  imperial  palace  of  the 
Caesars,  and  the  Christian  Church  of  St.  Martin,  the 
patron  saint  of  the  city.  St.  Gatian,  the  first  bishop 
of  Tours,  had  also  left  his  good  name  there,  as  an  echo 
of  the  place;  though,  pressed  by  pagan  persecution, 
he  could  only  preach  to  his  people  in  caves  and  dens 
of  the  earth.  There  are  strange  excavations  in  the 
near  neighborhood  of  the  city,  used  at  the  present 
day  for  the  storing  of  wine,  which  are  supposed  to  have 
sheltered  the  faithful  members  of  St.  Gatian's  early 
church.  In  our  own  time,  the  Romish  priests  in  the 
cathedral  display  the  banner  of  the  church  of  Tours, 
with  this  legend  inscribed,  "Sancte  Gatiene!  ora  pro 
nobis!"  While  on  the  reverse  of  the  standard,  as  if 
to  keep  things  straight  betwixt  the  rival  patrons,  the 
invocation,  '^Sancte  Martine  !  ora  pro  nobis!"  is  still 
saluted  by  the  breath  of  incense  from  the  swinging 
censers.     Martin  was  bishop  of  Tours  in  the  fourth 


THE    HAMMERER.  ,         41 

century;  and  among  "the  gods  many  and  lords  many" 
of  the  Romish  worship,  he  who  confronted  and  con- 
verted the  robber  of  the  Alps,  by  preaching  to  him 
Christ  and  his  gospel,  while  he  was  leading  him  away, 
bound  and  plundered,  is  one  of  those  wliose  name  is 
certainly  the  most  pleasant  to  our  eai.  But  we  are 
wandering  from  our  history:  this  is  only  a  stray  echo 
of  the  past.  Such,  however,  was  the  Tours  before 
which  Charles  was  sleeping,  in  the  midst  of  his  tired 
troops. 

The  terrible  conflict  between  Moslem  and  Frank  is 
resumed  on  the  second  morning,  and  ends  in  the  same 
way  on  the  second  night  as  on  the  first.  So  of  the 
third  day — so  of  the  fourth — so  of  the  fifth  and  the 
sixth,  in  this  prolonged  agony.  But  the  combatants 
cannot  wrestle  forever.  The  swarthy  Oriental,  or  else 
the  fairer  Frank,  must  at  last  faint  in  this  great  strug- 
gle between  the  athletae  of  two  opposing  creeds.  The 
Crescent  must  set,  or  the  Cross  bend.  And  now,  on 
the  seventh  day,  the  weight  of  the  "iron-handed"  Ger- 
mans is  beginning  to  tell  upon  the  children  of  the  East 
and  of  the  South.  Count  Eudes  of  Aquitaine,  whose 
fair  lands  had  been  harried  by  the  Moor,  before  he 
had  galloped  up  to  Touraine,  is  doing  great  things 
now.  But  it  is  Charles  who  is  so  desperately  pounding 
the  infidels,  that  he  earns  this  day,  on  this  great  his- 
toric field,  the  name  of  Martel,  or  the  "Hammer." 
He  hammers  so  manfully  at  the  folded  turbans  and  at 
the  casques  of  steel  with  the  little  half-moon  for  their 
crest,  that  even  the  great  emir  himself,  Abd-ur-rah- 
man,  is  beaten  to  the  ground  and  dies  there,  in  the 
midst  of  thnt  trampled  "garden."     Did  "the  Rtars  in 

4- 


42  THE   MOSLEM'S   DREAM. 

their  courses  fight  against  Sisera,"  the  great  captain 
of  the  host,  that  he  bowed  himself  and  died  upon  that 
death-bed  of  his  prophet's  dominion  in  the  West?  We 
must  refer  the  issue  of  that  memorable  day  to  the 
overruling  will  of  God,  who  interposed  for  the  deliver- 
ance of  Christendom  from  its  impending  destruction. 

Some  monkish  chroniclers  maintain  that  the  loss  of 
the  Moors,  at  the  close  of  the  seventh  and  last  day  of 
this  terrible  struggle,  amounted  to  375,000  men — an 
almost  incredible  number.  But  the  numbers  of  the 
slain  seem  to  have  been  increased  by  the  fierce  dissen- 
sions among  the  emirs  of  the  difierent  races  of  Arabia, 
Persia,  Barbary,  Spain,  which  were  represented  in  the 
camp  of  Abd-ur-rahman.  These  jealousies  broke  out 
into  fury  on  the  night  following  the  last  day  of  com- 
bat. Their  chief  gone,  there  was  no  hand  strong 
enough  to  hold  them  together;  and  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  impelled  each  separate  leader  to  fly  toward 
the  Pyrenees.  The  Franks,  meanwhile,  were  sleeping 
the  heavy  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  preparing  them- 
selves for  an  eighth  day  of  mortal  combat.  When  the 
weary  host  roused  itself  in  the  morning,  there  was  a 
mysterious  silence  hovering  over  the  tents  of  the  Arabs. 
"  Treachery  lurks  in  those  quiet  tents — or  ambush 
hides  behind  them ;"  such  was  the  first  morning  thought 
of  the  Franks.  They  waited  awhile ;  but  neither  foot- 
fall nor  whisper  could  be  caught  by  the  listeners.  It 
was  like  a  tented  city  of  the  dead!  Spies  were  sent 
cautiously  forward  to  look  and  to  listen  again;  and 
still  all  was  silent.  Yes;  the  tents  of  that  mighty 
host  were  empty  of  all  but  the  slain  and  the  spoil. 
Far  on  the  road  to  Spain  were  flying  troops  of  the 


THE   RETREAT.  43 

Moslem  horse,  which  will  never  again  cross  the  mount- 
ain rampant. 

That  great  wave  of  invasion,  which  was  to  have 
swept  over  Europe,  flooding  all  France,  Germany,  and 
Italy,  and  which  might  even  have  overflowed  our  own 
island  home,  broke  upon  the  field  of  Tours,  and  re- 
coiled in  scattered  streams  upon  the  shores  of  the 
Peninsula.     And  Christendom  was  safe ! 


KING  ALFRED; 


A   THOUSAND   YEARS   AGO. 


KING  ALFRED; 

OR, 

A  THOUSAND   YEARS   AGO. 


About  the  year  855,  an  Anglo-Saxon  king  is  in 
Rome,  visiting  the  churches,  and  laying  costly  offerings 
upon  their  altars.  He  is  a  man  of  a  sorrowful  counte- 
nance; he  looks  as  though  he  had  run  away  from 
trouble,  and  as  if  he  were  trying  to  hide  his  bewildered 
head  beneath  the  shadow  of  him  who  sits  as  bishop 
upon  the  seven  hills  of  old  Rome.  The  clamor  of  those 
fearful  Northmen,  "whose  cry  is  in  their  ships,"  is  still 
ringing  in  his  ears ;  and  he  even  now  has  the  scared 
look  of  one  who  listens  to  a  distant  echo.  The  maraud- 
ing Danes  had  harried  the  lands  of  this  poor  West- 
Saxon  king,  until,  remembering  the  vows  which  in  his 
early  youth  he  had  taken  upon  him,  and  sighing  for  the 
cowl  which  he  had  put  on  in  love,  and  been  forced  to 
throw  off  in  haste  under  pressure  of  State  necessity, 
the  royal  devotee  has  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome  in 
order  to  tell  his  beads  in  peace.  Wherever  he  goes, 
from  shrine  to  shrine,  he  leads  by  the  hand  a  fair  boy 
of  six  years,  his  fifth,  but  favorite  son. 

Is  there  anything  in  that  young  child's  face  which 
hints  at  future  greatness?  Doubtless  there  is  an  in- 
scription written  there,  which,  like  the  invisible  ink 

(47) 


48  KING   ALFRED. 

sometimes  employed  in  secret  correspondence,  will  start 
out  into  meaning  as  soon  as  it  be  subjected  to  the  strong 
light  of  the  full  day,  or  to  the  fiery  heat  of  maturing 
circumstances.  That  fair-haired  child,  born  in  the 
year  of  grace  849,  at  a  place  called  Wantage,  in  that 
part  of  the  West-Saxon  kingdom  now  known  as  Berk- 
shire, is  one  of  that  small  brotherhood  who  are  known 
to  all  posterity  by  the  title  of  "Great."  No  doubt 
that  title  might  be  read  even  now,  either  in  the  mold- 
ing of  the  brow,  in  the  clear  light  of  the  eye,  or  in  the 
firm  chiseling  of  the  little  mouth.  Perhaps  even  the 
childish  step  has  the  expression  of  greater  decision 
than  has  the  wavering,  inconsequent  gait  of  that  care- 
worn Saxon  father,  as  the  two  strangers  pace  the  round 
pavement  of  the  Appian  Way,  or  climb  the  broad  stair 
which  leads  up  to  the  Capitol.  Young  Alfred  is  the 
future  founder  of  a  long-lived  kingdom,  the  skillful 
architect  of  a  noble  constitution,  the  brave  deliverer 
of  an  oppressed  people,  the  calm  sage  who  weds  liberty 
to  security,  the  enlightened  foster-father  of  learning — 
himself  scholar,  poet,  and  minstrel.  But  the  creden- 
tials which  that  child  has  to  show  are  as  yet  a  sealed 
packet;  and  as  to  future  kingship,  there  are  turbulent 
brothers  betwixt  Alfred  and  the  throne  of  Wessex; 
there  were  four  elder  brethren  once — one  is  now  dead ; 
but  the  remaining  brethren  must  each  have  his  turn 
upon  that  unstable  seat,  and  young  Alfred  will  reso- 
lutely serve  them  all,  with  strict  loyalty,  until  God  call 
him  to  the  foremost  place. 

The  father  and  son  spend  a  whole  year  in  Rome, 
though  England  is  miserably  devoured  by  the  Danish 
raven  during  the  weak  king's  absence.     The  banner 


THE   DANISH   RAVEN.  49 

of  these  terrible  Northmen  was  a  raven  inwrought  by 
the  hands  of  the  three  fell  sisters  of  Inguar,  Hubba, 
and  Halfdene,  children  of  the  famous  Regnar  Lodbrog, 
the  most  formidable  of  all  sea-kings.  It  was  a  labor 
of  revenge,  finished  in  one  noontide;  and  they  said 
that  the  mystic  raven  would  always  clap  his  black 
wings  when  he  scented  victory  on  the  breeze,  and 
always  drooped  his  head  when  disaster  was  at  hand. 
The  raven  is  in  full  feather  now,  while  the  recreant 
Ethelwolf  is  rebuilding  the  school  of  "Thomas  the 
Holy"  at  Rome,  sealing  the  grant  of  "Peter-Pence," 
and  promising  to  pay  yearly  a  subsidy  of  three  hun- 
dred marks  to  the  rising  bishop  of  Rome — one  hundred 
of  these  to  glide  into  his  privy  purse,  one  hundred  to 
feed  the  lamps  of  St.  Peter-'s  on  Easter  Eve,  and  the 
last  hundred  to  light  the  lamps  of  "St.  Paul  without 
the  Walls."  "This  is  the  bride,"  as  said  old  John 
Speed,  in  speaking  of  the  Romish  church;  "the  bride 
that  ever  more  must  be  kissed  and  dowered." 

Alfred,  young  as  he  is,  is  quite  at  home  in  the  city 
of  the  Caesars.  His  father  had  once  before  sent  the 
child  of  his  hopes  thither  on  pilgrimage,  when  he  was 
but  four  years  old.  The  little  Anglo-Saxon  had  trav- 
eled down  through  France,  and  over  the  snowy  mount- 
ains, into  the  beautiful  land  of  the  South,  attended  by 
a  stately  retinue.  The  pope  of  the  day  is  not  likely 
to  have  had  a  prophetic  view  of  the  child's  coming 
greatness;  but  it  is  probable  that  a  secret  message 
from  so  faithful  a  son  of  the  church  as  Ethelwolf,  had 
induced  him  to  anoint,  as  future  monarch  of  England, 
the  favorite  child  of  the  West-Saxon  king.  However 
this  might  be,  it  was  the  policy  of  a  growing  hierarchy 

5 


50  KING   ALFRED. 

to  occupy  every  foot  of  vantage  ground,  and  to  claim 
every  imaginable  power  over  kings  and  peoples.  The 
chrism  which  has  anointed  that  child's  head  in  the 
*' Church  of  St.  John  Lateran,"  the  mother  church  of 
Rome,  may  perhaps  stand  him  in  good  stead  some  day, 
when  rights  are  weighed  in  the  uncertain  balances  of 
opinion. 

But  to  return  to  the  rayal  father  and  his  favorite 
son.  Rome  is  at  last  left,  and  the  homeward  journey 
is  made  through  France.  A  new  fascination  awaits  the 
widowed  king  as  he  pauses  to  rest  at  the  court  of 
Charles  the  Bald.  Here  there  is  a  beautiful  maiden, 
the  daughter  of  Charles,  the  near  descendant  of  Char- 
lemagne; and  the  old  king  is  in  desperate  love.  It 
takes  some  time  to  persuade  the  royal  beauty  to  be- 
come the  wife  of  an  elderly  monarch,  who  has  grown- 
up sons  at  home,  the  eldest  of  whom  is  rebellious,  am- 
bitious, and  already  plotting  to  seize  the  throne  of  his 
loitering  father — that  throne,  too,  tottering  from  exter- 
nal assaults,  as  well  as  heaving  from  internal  commo- 
tion. The  fair  Judith  allows  herself  to  be  wooed  from 
July  to  October  of  the  year  856,  and  then  she  accom- 
panies her  husband  and  little  stepson  to  England.  So 
charmed  is  the  monarch  with  his  young  Frankish  bride, 
that  he  insists  on  sharing  with  her  his  royal  dignity; 
and  a  ceremonious  coronation  of  the  queen-consort 
takes  place,  though  for  some  time  past  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  queens  had  been  reduced  to  a  very  subordinate 
position.  But  the  sight  of  a  crown  on  the  head  of 
his  youthful  stepmother,  and  the  knowledge  that  the 
anointing  oil  had  been  poured  on  the  head  of  his 
youngest  brother,  only  further  irritate  the  turbulent 


TURBULENT    BROTHERS.  51 

Ethelbald ;  and  so  strong  grows  the  rebellion,  that  the 
weak  monarch  is  fain  to  give  over  the  half  of  his  king- 
dom to  his  wayward  son,  for  the  dear  love  of  peace. 
That  wretched  compromise  will  not  wear  well.  The 
old  king  dies  in  two  years'  space,  leaving  a  divided 
house  and  a  vexed  kingdom.  Strange  things  and  un- 
lawful follow;  for  Ethelbald  outrages  law,  custom,  and 
religious  institutions,  by  taking  to  wife  this  very  lady, 
whose  coming  and  whose  crown  had  so  deeply  moved 
his  jealous  nature.  They  say  that  S within,  Prior  of 
Winchester,  the  tearful  saint,  so  wrought  upon  the 
mind  of  the  reprobate  that  he  consented  to  put  away 
his  wife,  and  otherwise  to  mend  his  ways.  But  he  only 
survived  his  father  about  three  years ;  and  his  brothers, 
Ethelbert  and  Ethelred,  successively  reigned  in  his 
stead. 

All  this  while  young  Alfred's  mind  is  molding  under 
the  hard  hand  of  adversity,  while  it  receives  a  finer 
finish  from  the  lighter  touch  of  woman's  influence. 
The  Lady  Osburga,  his  own  mother,  a  woman  of  excel- 
lent gifts,  had  died  when  he  was  yet  in  early  childhood ; 
but  the  influence  and  the  example  of  the  accomplished 
stepmother  are  highly  stimulating  to  his  young  intel- 
lect. The  "intellectual  paladins"  of  the  court  of 
Charlemagne  had  left  behind  them  a  standard  of  edu- 
cation far  higher  than  that  which  obtained  in  England; 
and  when  Alfred  was  lingering  with  his  father  the  while 
he  paid  court  to  the  Princess  Judith  of  France,  he  prob- 
ably caught  something  of  the  tone  of  mind  which  pre- 
vailed around  him.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  not 
even  a  monkish  tutor  had  been  found  to  teach  the  boy 
to  read  up  to  his  twelfth  year ;  and  but  for  the  incident 


52  KINa  ALFRED. 

whicli  follows,  well  known  truly,  but  one  which  will 
bear  repeating  in  all  the  school-rooms  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  Alfred,  the  scholar,  the  poet,  and  the  minstrel 
king,  might  have  been  left  to  sign  his  after- edicts  with 
tooth  and  nail,  like  his  rude  "forebears,"  leaving  the 
impress  of  a  royal  front  tooth  and  a  thumbnail  upon 
the  soft  wax.  The  other  boys,  his  brothers,  have 
grown  up  in  profound  ignorance  of  their  letters;  but 
here  sits  the  beautiful  Frankish  stepmother  in  one  of 
the  rush-strewn  halls  of  her  rude  English  palace.  She 
has  just  laid  aside  the  royal  standard  which  she  has 
been  "embroidering,"  whereon  the  white  horse  of  the 
Saxon  is  making  ready  to  confront  the  black  raven  of 
Denmark.  Her  household  is  grouped  around  her — the 
ladies  at  their  spinning-wheels,  the  eorls  and  thanes 
lounging  in  listless  "idlesse."  Judith  draws  out  an 
illuminated  manuscript  of  Saxon  poetry,  and  she  reads 
aloud.  The  verses  have  no  classic  elegance,  but  they 
have  a  stately  rhythm  of  their  own ;  and  the  thoughts, 
though  rude,  are  stirring  and  heroic.  The  boy  Alfred 
listens  with  an  intensity  shared  by  no  other  of  the  group. 
The  royal  lady  looks  around,  holds  out  the  book  in  her 
hand,  and  promises  that  he  shall  own  the  manuscript 
who  first  learns  to  read  it.  The  rebel  son,  king  as  he 
is,  cares  not  to  enter  such  lists  as  these,  and  -the  others 
hold  their  peace  likewise.  With  flushed  brow  the  boy 
Alfred  leans  forward  and  asks,  "Wilt  thou  in  very 
deed  give  the  book  to  whomsoever  shall  first  read  and 
repeat  it?"  The  queen  confirms  her  promise.  The 
Frankish  Judith,  like  the  wife  of  Heber  the  Kenite, 
has  driven  a  nail  into  a  sure  place.  Alfred  takes  the 
precious  volume  and  slips  away.     He  goes  about  seek- 


KING  ALFRED  WINNING  THE  QUEENS  MANUSCRIPT. 

"Here  sits  the  beautiful  Frankish  stepmother  in  one  of  the  rush-strewn  halls  of  her  rude 
English  palace.  The  royal  lady  looks  around,  holds  out  the  book  in  her  hand,  and  prom- 
ises that  he  shall  own  the  manuscript  who  first  learns  to  read  it."— Page  53. 


THE    REWARD    CLAIMED.  53 

ing  for  some  one  to  teach  him  to  read  his  own  mother- 
tongue,  and  it  is  no  easy  quest  at  an  Anglo-Saxon  court 
in  that  year  861.  At  last  the  young  student  returns, 
triumphantly  recites  the  poem,  and  claims  the  reward. 
"  The  child  is"  indeed  "father  of  the  man,"  and  that  man 
will  be  one  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth.  In  the  teach- 
ing drama  of  that  one  life,  the  much-talked-of  "unities" 
were  singularly  preserved  throughout,  the  "days"  from 
childhood  to  advanced  manhood  being 

"  Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety." 

That  boy  will  live  to  translate  with  his  own  hand,  into 
his  vernacular  tongue,  a  book  which  became  his  dear 
friend  and  companion.  It  was  Boetius's  De  Consola- 
tione  PhiloBopMse ;  and  in  peace  or  in  war  Boetius  was 
carried  about  in  his  bosom ;  nay,  he  will  never  rest  un- 
til he  hath  given  to  his  country,  in  Saxon  versions,  the 
histories  of  Orosius.and  of  Bede,  the  Greek  fables  of 
^sop,  and  Gregory's  Pastoral;  and  he  will  instruct 
and  refine,  his  ignorant  people  by  the  graceful  teach- 
ings of  his  own  muse.  It  is  even  said  that  he  rendered 
into  Saxon  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  but  it  is  not 
credible  that  so  vast  a  labor  could  have  been  accom- 
plished in  the  intervals  of  outward  distraction.  We 
honor  him  in  that  he  had  it  in  his  heart  to  do  this ;  and 
we  know  that  when  the  pen  and  the  scepter  dropped 
together  from  the  hand  of  the  dying  monarch  in  the 
fifty-second  year  of  his  age,  he  had  half- completed  his 
version  of  the  Book  of  Psalms.  These  are  brilliant 
results  of  that  memorable  hour  in  the  rush-strewn  hall, 
when  the  young  stepmother  held  up  her  prize-book  for 
competition  among  the  unlettered  youth  of  a  kingdom  ! 

5* 


54  KING   ALFRED. 

If  history  dealt  more  with  such  noble  conquests  as 
these,  and  somewhat  less  exclusively  with  the  flapping 
of  a  raven's  wing,  the  prancing  of  a  mystic  horse,  the 
triumphant  swoop  of  an  eagle,  or  the  culminating  of  a 
crescent;  in  fine,  if  we  had  more  of  the  moral  and 
intellectual  history  of  men  and  peoples,  and  rather  less 
of  the  physical,  we  might  be  wiser  students  than  we 
now  are. 

At  last  Alfred  is  called  to  the  throne  in  preference 
to  the  children  of  an  elder  brother,  by  the  sanction  of 
his  father's  will,  and  by  the  call  of  a  whole  nation 
speaking  as  with  the  voice  of  one  man.  He  is  twenty- 
two  years  of  age  now,  with  a  countenance  open  and 
engaging,  in  figure  and  bearing  noble  and  dignified,  in 
temper  singularly  mild,  and  with  intellectual  gifts  and 
moral  qualities  such  as  furnish  the  very  ideal  of  Chris- 
tian chivalry.  And  truly  he  has  fallen  upon  proving 
times!  The  metal  he  is  made  of  will  be  tried  by 
almost  every  conceivable  test,  saving  that  most  search- 
ing one  of  all  —  a  long  summer  day  of  prosperity. 
He  began  to  reign  quasi  invitus,  as  his  trustworthy 
biographer,  Asser,  says  of  him,  so  that  we  may  believe 
that  the  step-out  into  greatness  was  unwillingly  taken ; 
and  forthwith  the  sword  must  be  buckled  on. 

For  the  first  seven  years  of  his  reign  there  is  no 
great  proof  of  skill  displayed  in  the  handling  of  either 
scepter  or  sword.  He  is  learning  bitter  lessons  of 
humiliation,  while  he  makes  worthless  truces  with  the 
treacherous  Northmen,  who  are  stalking  over  the  land, 
pillaging,  burning,  and  killing  wherever  they  go.  Al- 
fred's friends  are  even  emigrating  to  other  lands  in 
despair,  and  leaving  him  alone  to  face  the  storm ;  and 


THE   HARPER.  55 

we  catch  an  occasional  glimpse  of  a  fugitive,  who  is 
angling  in  a  stream  for  a  dinner,  hunting  in  a  wood  in 
hope  of  breaking  a  long  fast,  or  hiding  in  the  tangled 
bushes  of  a  marsh;  sometimes  with  a  few  haggard 
comrades,  at  others  in  lonely  misery;  and  yet  dividing 
his  last  loaf  with  some  beggar  subject  whose  face  is  yet 
more  sharply  cut  by  famine  than  his  own.  Then 
comes  the  retreat  to  Athelingay,  the  "Isle  of  Nobles," 
with  the  one  narrow  pathway  to  his  hiding-place,  steal- 
ing through  the  alder-growths  of  the  bogs;  and  then 
that  long  year's  residence  in  this  "moated  grange," 
where  he  waited  drearily  for  better  days,  and  "yet  they 
came  not."  The  story  of  the  burnt  cakes  is  such  a 
household  word  in  the  million  homes  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race,  that  it  may  not  be  rehearsed  here,  lest 
perchance  some  ragged  schoolboy  might  consider  him- 
self qualified  to  set  the  sketcher  right  in  some  minor 
details  of  the  picture. 

But  now  at  last,  after  seven  years  of  apprenticeship 
to  misfortune,  come  the  brighter  days.  Hope  rises 
amid  the  mists  of  the  Isle  of  Nobles ;  a  handful  of 
followers  has  treaded  the  wet  path  leading  to  the 
"moated  grange;"  they  are  throwing  up  little  earth- 
works, making  mud  entrenchments,  running  out  unex- 
pectedly, beating  the  astounded  Danes,  and  vanishing 
again,  nobody  knows  whither!  This  brisk  exercise 
stretches  the  enfeebled  limbs  of  depression,  and  gives 
more  muscular  strength  to  the  new-born  confidence  of 
the  bog-folk  and  their  king.  Then  ensues  the  poetical 
little  episode  of  the  harper,  who  drew  such  melody 
from  his  strings,  and  sang  so  deliciously  to  their  music, 
that  he  is  bidden  to  the  banquet-board  of  the  Danish 


56  KING   ALFRED. 

king  as  he  carouses  in  his  entrenched  camp  of  Edden- 
dune,  near  Westbury.  Like  Gideon,  Alfred  listens  to 
the  dreams  of  intoxicate  security,  and  soon  makes 
ready  to  break  the  sorry  pitcher  which  hides  his  lamp. 
Whether  Alfred,  upon  this,  sent  round,  as  signs  and 
tokens,  some  of  his  neatherd's  brown  cakes,  like  the 
handing  about  of  the  "chupatties,"  which  were  the 
signal  of  Indian  outbreak  the  other  day,  the  Saxon 
chronicler  hath  not  recorded;  but,  by  some  sign  or 
other,  the  English  were  suddenly  awakened  out  of 
the  sleep  of  exhaustion  by  the  word,  "The  king  yet 
lives  in  Athelingay;  the  stone  of  Egbert  is  the  place 
of  meeting."  The  tryst  is  joyfully  kept,  and,  for  the 
two  days  of  muster,  the  blowing  of  horns  is  prodigious. 
The  down-trampled  Saxons  are  springing  up  in  all 
directions,  and  hurrying  in  arms  to  the  rendezvous 
in  the  willow  thickets  of  Selwood  Forest.  In  one  of 
Alfred's  successful  sallies  from  the  fens  of  Athelingay, 
he  had  surprised  and  carried  off  the  famous  "Reafen,'* 
that  enchanted  raven  standard  of  the  Danes,  so  that  he 
has  a  pledge  of  future  victory  to  display  to  his  people 
when  they  flock  to  his  side  at  the  "stone  of  Egbert." 
He  has  also  a  dream  to  tell,  which  marvelously  helps 
his  cause — how  that  Neot,  the  Cornish  saint,  at  whose 
shrine  he  had  once  knelt  in  bodily  anguish,  and  risen 
up  much  the  better  for  the  appeal,  had  come  in  the 
visions  of  the  night  and  had  promised  victory.  Some 
say  that  Cuthbert,  the  stern  saint  of  Lindisfarn,  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  come  and  whisper  encouragement. 
The  two  days  have  passed,  and  on  the  third  the 
Anglo-Saxons  march  to  Edd^ndune.  Alfred  is  undis- 
puted chief  of  the  Saxon  interest  in  England,  because 


FIELD    OF   EDDENDUNE.  57 

all  the  kingdoms  of  the  old  heptarchy  have  now  died 
out,  leaving  him  the  representative  man.  The  king 
says  a  few  words  of  stirring  appeal  to  his  people,  and 
then  leads  them  against  the  uncounted  masses  of  the 
Northmen.  The  Danes  fight  well,  but  they  are  in- 
wardly terror-stricken,  because,  as  "Alfred!  Alfred!" 
is  the  cry,  they  think  that  the  grave  has  opened,  and 
sent  him  forth  to  their  destruction;  while  he  himself 
points,  with  a  confident  finger,  at  a  standard-bearer 
who  heads  one  division  of  his  army,  and  cries,  "  Saint 
Neot  has  come  with  victory!"  Each  of  these  fancies 
does  its  work  on  the  excited  brain  of  Dane  and  of 
Saxon;  it  was  as  the  shade  of  Theseus  at  Marathon. 
The  Northmen  are  falling  or  flying,  and  before  night 
all  who  are  not  lying  on  that  encumbered  plain  are 
strengthening  themselves  in  a  neighboring  entrench- 
ment. Alfred,  now  king  of  all  England,  is  beleaguer- 
ing the  Danes,  and  keeping  stern  watch  about  them  for 
a  fortnight.  While  they  are  growing  hungry  and  heart- 
less, making  ready  to  sue  for  mercy,  mayhap  a  detach- 
ment of  Alfred's  men  is  cutting  the  turf  on  the  hillside 
above  Westbury,  and  shaping  out  the  great  "white 
horse"  on  the  chalk,  to  mark  the  field  of  Eddendune. 
But  here  comes  Godrun  the  Dane,  humbly  and  "deli- 
cately." It  is  well  for  him  that  no  righteous  Samuel  is 
nigh  to  "hew  Agag  in  pieces."  Alfred,  instead  there- 
of, exacts  oaths  and  hostages,  and  one  other  surrender, 
at  whose  precipitancy  we  certainly  demur.  Godrun 
and  his  pagan  chiefs  must  go  with  Alfred  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Isle  of  Nobles,  and  there,  clad  in  white 
garments,  profess  Christianity,  and  receive  the  seal  of 


58  KII^G    ALFRED. 

baptism.  Alfred  himself  stands  godfather  to  the  unre- 
claimed-looking candidate,  and  then  away  go  Godrun 
and  his  fierce  fellow- converts  to  find  spades  and  pick- 
axes wherewith  to  cultivate  their  new  allotment  of  East 
Anglia.  As  much  to  our  surprise  as  to  our  pleasure, 
we  find  that  the  bold  scheme  answers :  Godrun  becomes 
a  respectable  colonist,  a  worthy  agriculturist ;  and 
when  a  great  fleet  of  the  Northmen,  under  Hastings, 
the  famous  hero  of  Scandinavian  romance,  soon  after- 
ward comes  sailing  boldly  up  the  Thames,  thinking  to 
be  eagerly  joined  by  their  old  confederates,  they  find 
the  sea-king  settled  down  as  a  reputable  country  squire, 
amid  his  broad  acres  and  his  promising  crops.  He  can- 
not spare  time  to  go  harrying  the  land  as  of  old.  He 
has  a  vested  interest  in  the  prosperity  of  the  country ; 
goes  soberly  to  church  on  Sundays,  and  sits  in  the 
squire's  pew.  No !  Godrun  at  least  professes  to  fear 
God,  and  honor  the  king;  and  so  the  strangers  spend  a 
dull  winter  at  Fulham,  and  then  sail  away  to  seek  bet- 
ter luck  in  Flanders. 

Hastings  will  come  again  in  force;  but  in  the  mean 
time  the  land  will  have  rest :  and  the  great  Alfred  will 
so  strengthen  himself  in  his  kingdom,  and  in  the  hearts 
of  his  people,  that  when  the  terrible  Northman  reap- 
pears, he  will  be  hunted  down  until  he  swim  that  same 
River  Thames  like  a  wounded  stag.  Even  his  wife  and 
children  will  be  seized,  baptized,  and  returned  to  their 
chafed  lord  loaded  with  the  gifts  of  royal  generosity. 
This  is  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  his  head;  but  they  fail 
to  melt  his  hard  nature — they  only  scorch  the  revenge- 
ful brain  of  the  Northern  pirate.    That  man  will  chasten 


HALVING  THE  LAST  LOAF.  59 

Alfred's  prosperity,  and  will  call  out  the  marvelous 
resources  of  his  great  intellect,  until  the  afternoon,  if 
not  the  very  evening  of  his  day.  True,  there  was  a 
golden  sunset;  and  the  calm  hours  of  his  closing  day 
were  spent  in  maturing  his  admirable  institutions,  and  in 
teaching  his  beloved  people  the  lessons  of  wisdom  which 
he  had  painfully  learned  in  camp,  in  court,  and  in  hiding- 
place.  Even  when  he  was  breathing  the  disheartening 
mists  of  the  fenny  Athelingay,  he  was  fortifying  him- 
self against  the  miseries  of  the  present,  and  educating 
himself  for  the  call  of  the  future,  by  learning  the  pre- 
cious wisdom  of  the  past.  He  had  carried  his  books 
with  him  into  his  covert :  the  annals  of  his  poor  distracted 
country,  hymns,  religious  poetry,  and,  best  of  all,  the 
manuscript  of  holy  Scripture.  He  was  sitting  apart 
and  reading,  when  the  beautiful  incident  occurred  of 
the  starving  beggar,  and  the  halving  of  the  last  loaf 
David,  the  minstrel  king  of  Israel,  was  the  model  which 
he  had  set  before  his  eyes  for  imitation ;  and  visions  of 
future  victory,  of  spiritual  as  well  as  temporal  peace, 
when  God  should  give  him  rest  from  his  enemies,  may 
have  lighted  his  dreary  ^'Cave  of  Adullam." 

So  illiterate  were  even  the  clergy  of  England  when 
Alfred  began  to  reign,  that  "very  few  there  were,"  as 
he  has  himself  recorded,  "who  could  understand  their 
daily  prayers  in  English,  or  translate  any  writing  from 
the  Latin."  He  adds:  "I  indeed  cannot  recollect  one 
single  instance  on  the  south  of  the  Thames  when  I  took 
the  kingdom."  But  he  soon  turned  his  realm  into  an 
adult  school,  for  he  made  even  the  poor  old  nobles  learn 
to  read,  as  well  as  the  clerks.     Slow  scholars  doubtless 


60  KING   ALFRED. 

they  were;  and  the  king,  like  his  stepmother,  must 
needs  hold  out  many  a  prize  in  order  to  stimulate  their 
tardy  ambition.  The  learned  men  of  the  past  day  had 
almost  all  perished,  together  with  their  books ;  and 
Alfred  had  to  search  all  England,  and  to  send  literary 
embassies  to  foreign  lands,  in  order  to  secure  teachers 
for  himself,  and  for  his  new  University  of  Oxford. 
Asser,  his  future  friend  and  biographer,  was  found 
somewhere  in  the  western  part  of  Wales.  Grimbald, 
a  learned  monk,  who  had  treated  with  kindness  the 
little  Anglo-Saxon  prince  of  four  years,  when  he  was 
traveling  through  France  on  his  early  mission  to  Rome, 
was  sought  and  found.  Perhaps  Grimbald's  gift  of 
sweet  song  was  remembered  after  those  many  troublous 
years.  He  became  one  of  Alfred's  most  congenial 
companions,  and  used  to  soothe  the  king  with  his  melo- 
dious voice.  But  it  was  Asser  who  taught  Alfred  to 
keep  a  commonplace-book.  The  Welshman  chanced 
to  make  a  quotation  which  struck  the  royal  ear.  Al- 
fred drew  from  his  bosom  his  little  manual  of  devotion, 
and  asked  Asser  to  write  it  down.  It  was  full,  and  so 
Asser  proposed  to  make  an  album,  which  should  receive 
the  stray  scraps  of  learning,  that  nothing  might  be 
lost.  The  idea  takes,  and  volume  after  volume  is 
stored  with  fragmentary  wisdom.  Now  it  is  a  text 
from  holy  Scripture,  and  then  it  is  some  fine  classic 
thought,  which  the  royal  scholar  renders  into  his  own 
terse  Saxon. 

Another  important  acquisition  was  the  celebrated 
Johannes  Erigena,  so  called  because  of  his  Irish 
descent.     He  was  a  monk  of  extraordinary  acquire- 


LAW   TRIUMPHANT.  61 

ments,  a  learned  linguist,  and  a  man  whose  acute  intel- 
lect had  been  turned  to  the  study  of  the  sciences  and 
the  arts,  as  well  as  literature.  He  taught  geometry 
and  astronomy  in  Alfred's  rising  university;  while 
Asser  gave  lessons  in  grammar  and  rhetoric,  and  John 
of  St.  David's  in  logic,  arithmetic,  and  music.  But 
learned  factions  must  have  run  high  at  that  day,  for 
John  Erigena,  either  at  Oxford  or  at  Malmesbury 
Abbey,  where  some  assert  that  he  taught,  was  one  day 
set  upon  by  his  enraged  pupils,  and  actually  stabbed 
to  death  with  pen-knives ! 

But  it  is  time  to  glance  at  the  great  Alfred  as  the 
statesman  and  the  legislator,  as  well  as  the  warrior  and 
the  man  of  letters.  And  it  is  right  that  the  noble  senti- 
ment of  him  who  was  the  true  founder  of  the  British 
monarchy  should  here  be  recorded,  that  "  The  English 
should  forever  remain  as  free  as  their  own  thoughts!'' 
And  yet  so  firm  was  the  hand  with  which  he  adminis- 
tered the  laws  he  had  himself  made,  that  he  caused 
golden  bracelets  to  be  suspended  above  the  highways,  as 
a  test  of  the  supremacy  of  order ;  and  behold,  there  was 
not  an  arm  in  England  bold  enough  to  dare  to  take  them 
down !  Everywhere  law  was  triumphant,  and  the  rights 
of  property  secured.  The  land  was  mapped  out  into  coun- 
ties, the  counties  were  parceled  into  hundreds,  and  the 
hundreds  subdivided  into  tithings.  Regular  courts  of 
justice  were  established,  and  that  noble  institution,  to 
which  the  Englishman  clings  as  the  anchor  by  which 
he  may  safely  ride  in  storm  or  in  calm,  trial  by  jury, 
became  the  law  of  the  land.  And  if  the  accused  could 
not  safely  trust  his  rights  to  the  consideration  of  twelve 

6 


62  KING   ALFRED. 

reputable  men,  his  own  peers  in  life,  he  might  appeal 
onward,  from  court  to  court,  in  the  ascending  scale  of 
dignity.  Thus  the  wise  edicts  of  the  minstrel  king  of 
the  ninth  century  became  the  basis  of  that  body  of 
legislation,  which,  a  thousand  years  further  on  in  the 
life  of  nations,  is  known  by  the  name  of  our  common 
law. 

His  encouragement  of  learning  was  so  marked,  that 
he  used  to  sit,  as  an  eager  listener,  while  the  learned 
men,  whom  he  had  trained  in  his  own  kingdom,  or 
allured  from  other  lands,  lectured  from  the  chairs  which 
he  had  set  up  in  the  halls  of  his  beloved  Oxford.  The 
language  of  one  of  his  edicts  is  so  remarkable,  that  it 
must  here  be  quoted:  "Wee  will  and  command,  that 
all  free  men  of  our  kingdom  whosoever,  possessing  two 
hides  of  land,  shall  bring  up  their  sonnes  in  learning 
till  they  be  fifteene  years  of  age  at  least,  that  so  they 
may  be  trained  to  know  God,  to  be  men  of  understand- 
ing, and  to  live  happily;  for,  of  a  man  that  is  borne 
free,  and  yet  illiterate,  we  repute  no  otherwise  than  of 
a  beast,  or  a  brainlesse  body,  and  a  very  sot." 

When  Alfred  was  lying  hid  amid  the  dank  thickets 
of  the  Isle  of  Nobles,  accompanied  by  the  Lady  Als- 
witha,  the  nobly  but  not  royally-born  wife  who  shared 
his  hard  crust,  he  had  vowed  a  vow  unto  his  God.  He 
promised  that  if  God  should  give  him  rest  from  his  ene- 
mies round  about,  and  should  set  him  up  on  high  above 
them  that  hated  him,  he  would  dedicate  to  his  service  a 
third  part  of  his  time.  The  vows  of  adversity  commonly 
become  the  broken  promises  of  prosperity:  but  not  so 
with  Alfred.     And   now  see   him   in   the  stone-built 


A   STRANGE   TIME-PIECE.  63 

palace  of  his  kingdom — stone-built,  for  he  sets  his  face 
against  the  wooden  houses  which  had  previously  satis- 
fied an  oppressed  people,  and  which  used  to  burn  like 
touchwood  at  the  kindling  of  the  Danes.  He  is  care- 
fully measuring  the  twenty-four  hours  of  the  day  and 
night  into  three  equal  portions.  There  is  not  a  clock 
in  the  land  to  toll  the  burial  of  one  hour  and  the  birth  of 
the  next.  There  is  not  even  an  hour-glass  to  be  turned 
by  Alfred's  watchful  hand.  No  dial-plate  has  ever 
mapped  out  the  mystic  journey  of  the  day;  and  per- 
haps the  shadow  of  some  ancestral  oak,  as  it  silently 
moves  across  the  face  of  a  sleeping  pool,  is  the  only 
gnomon  which  graduates  the  swift  procession  of  the 
hours.  What  will  Alfred  do  ?  There  are  six  wax  can- 
dles in  the  royal  chapel,  each  of  them  a  foot  long,  with 
the  inches  carefully  marked  by  lines  of  different  colors. 
Each  of  these  burns  for  four  hours,  three  inches  an 
hour;  the  six  wax  candles  thus  living  through  a  night 
and  day.  ''They  did  orderly  burn  foure  hours  a 
piece,"  says  Spelman;  and  it  was  the  duty  of  the  keep- 
ers of  the  chapel  royal  to  go  and  advertise  the  king 
how  the  colored  hour-lines  were  consuming  in  their 
turn.  To  shield  this  little  torch  of  Time  from  wavering 
before  the  breath  of  chance  winds,  it  was  placed  in  a 
lantern  of  thin,  white  horn  with  a  frame  of  wood,  the 
king's  own  happy  contrivance;  and  thus  the  thrifty 
economist  knew  when  to  give  his  eight  hours  to  God  in 
devotional  services  or  pious  works,  his  eight  to  the 
affairs  of  his  kingdom,  and  the  remaining  eight  to  a 
short  sleep,  to  hasty  meals,  and  to  some  precious  hours 
of  study.     This  was  the  man  who  had  fought  fifty-six 


64  KING   ALFRED. 

pitched  battles  \vith  the  Danish  invaders,  and  whose 
days  and  nights  were  passed  in  almost  continuous  suf- 
fering from  some  incurable  malady ! 

But  the  candle  of  the  great  king's  mortal  life,  with 
its  many-colored  hour-lines,  at  last  burned  down  into 
the  socket.  The  hours  of  service  to  his  people,  and 
the  hours  of  devotion  to  his  God  on  earth,  were  told 
out  when  he  had  but  just  reached  the  fifty-second  year 
of  his  age,  and  the  twenty-ninth  of  his  reign;  and  so, 
in  the  year  900,  the  great  Alfred  entered  upon  the 
hours  of  his  rest. 


FREDERIC  BARBAROSSA: 
THE    RED-BEARD  OF   THE   RHINE. 


6* 


FKEDERIC    BARBAROSSA; 

THE  "RED-BEARD"  OF  THE  RHINE. 


The  wonder-working  voice  of  Bernard,  Abbot  of 
Clairvaux,  had  been  ringing  throughout  Europe,  bid- 
ding princes  and  people  to  assume  the  cross  and  pass 
into  the  East,  there  to  struggle  with  the  Moslem  for 
possession  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  In  those  days 
neither  king  nor  knight  was  held  to  be  a  finished 
Christian  gentleman,  unless  he  had  led  an  army  or 
headed  a  band  of  retainers,  to  find  a  shallow  grave  in 
the  sands  of  Palestine,  or  to  return  home  after  years 
of  desperate  warfare,  broken  in  health  and  bankrupt 
in  purse.  In  this  twelfth  century,  of  which  we  speak,  a 
man  of  birth  was  held  to  be  a  recreant  knight,  a  mon- 
arch treated  with  scant  respect  as  a  craven,  if  he  had 
not  come  under  the  power  of  this  great  energizing  idea. 
Popes  fulminated  against  him,  preachers  shook  the 
pulpit  with  their  stormy  denunciations  of  divine  wrath, 
hermits  left  their  hut  in  the  forest,  or  their  living  sepul- 
chre in  the  hollow  hill,  to  run  up  and  down  the  land, 
lifting  high  the  symbol  of  the  cross,  and  invoking  the 
vengeance  of  ofiended  Heaven  against  him  who  should 
refuse  to  come  to  its  help  against  the  mighty.  That 
such  and  such  high  contracting  parties  should  bind 

(67) 


68  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

themselves  to  go  on  crusade,  with  so  many  ships,  and 
so  many  thousand  men-at-arms,  within  a  given  period, 
formed  an  article  of  stipulation  in  treaties,  or  a  bond 
of  reconciliation  betwixt  sworn  foes.  Enthusiasm  be- 
came an  epidemic.  To  go  on  crusade  was  chivalry's 
prescribed  mode  of  expiation  for  all  personal  guilt.  It 
was  the  great  penance  of  nations,  whereby  they  blindly 
thought  to  atone  for  sin,  and  to  purchase  Heaven's  glo- 
rious favor.  It  was  the  great  caravan-journey  of  kin- 
dreds and  peoples,  who  felt  themselves  impelled  to  go 
once  in  man's  brief  life  on  pilgrimage  to  the  holy  place. 
This  was  in  truth  the  great  outlet  for  all  the  pent-up 
activities  of  man's  restless  nature.  The  day  was  a  day 
of  great  physical  energy,  but  of  close  intellectual  re- 
pression; and  it  was  a  congenial  relief  to  the  pulsing 
heart  of  the  age  thus  to  expend  all  its  surplus  activity, 
all  its  eager  life,  its  fervid  ambitions,  and  its  furious 
hates,  on  a  great  ideal  duty,  which  all  ghostly  teachers 
declared  to  be  sealed  with  the  signet  of  Heaven's  direct 
approval.  It  somewhat  resembled  that  singular  fanati- 
cism which  seized  upon  the  knighthood  of  an  earlier 
period,  some  six  centuries  before,  when  the  Christian 
hero  must  e'en  go  on  lonely  pilgrimage  to  the  land 
of  the  sunrise,  in  quest  of  the  ''Sang-real;''  and  a 
vacant  seat  was  ever  kept  at  the  Round  Table  of  our 
Arthur  of  Britain,  for  the  Sir  Tristram  or  the  Sir 
Launcelot  who  was  far  away  in  search  of  the  ''Holy 
GrraiV  If  the  hero  of  the  twelfth  and  succeeding 
centuries  returned  not,  his  lady  took  the  vail,  to  weep 
over  the  vision  of  his  lonely  grave  on  the  Paynim 
strand,  or  clipped  his  fair  lands  to  dower  the  neighbor- 
ing abbey,  in  order  that  ceaseless  masses  might  be  said 


AN   ARMY   OVERTHROWN.  69 

for  the  repose  of  his  dear  soul.  And  if  he  came  home, 
with  duskj  brow  and  hollow  cheek,  to  recount  the  tur- 
bans that  his  strong  lance  had  borne  to  the  ground,  it 
was  something  to  know  that  when  he  would  repose  in 
marble  effigy  upon  his  stately  tomb  in  that  abbey 
church,  his  cross-legged  figure  would  denote  to  all  time 
that  he  who  slept  there  in  stony  trance  had  been  obe- 
dient to  the  roll-call  of  his  faith,  and  had  gone  forth 
upon  the  soldier's  pilgrimage. 

Thus  when  St.  Bernard  of  Clairvaux  lifted  his  elo- 
quent voice  and  pointed  the  way  to  the  East,  both 
Louis  VII.  of  France  and  Conrad  III.  of  Germany 
passed  to  Palestine  at  the  head  of  large  armies  of  Cru- 
saders. Conrad  was  attended  by  his  nephew,  Frederic 
of  Hohenstauffen,  Duke  of  Swabia,  who  was  soon  to 
make  the  world  ring  with  his  name  as  Frederic  Barba- 
rossa.  It  is  said  that  each  of  these  potentates,  Louis 
and  Conrad,  was  followed  by  his  70,000  men;  but  so 
awful  a  mortality  decimated  the  ranks  of  the  Germans 
on  the  feverish  plains  of  Constantinople,  that  dreadful 
rumors  of  poisoned  wells,  and  of  lime  mixed  with  the 
soldiers'  flour,  shook  the  confidence  of  the  enthusiastic 
emperor.  The  prince  who  then  sat  upon  the  tottering 
throne  which  the  great  Constantino  had  fixed,  broad 
and  strong,  upon  the  shores  of  the  blue  Bosphorus 
was  Manuel  Comnenus.  He  was  a  man  of  a  lofty  and 
generous  soul,  and  it  is  not  conceivable  that  a  mean 
jealousy  of  his  romantic  Western  allies  could  instigate 
him  to  the  commission  of  such  wholesale  iniquity  as  is 
hinted  at  above.  Conrad  passed  the  Bosphorus,  and 
led  his  weakened  forces  into  the  rocky  interior  of  Asia 
Minor;  but  here  a  yet  more  fatal  peril  than  poisoned 


70  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

water  or  burning  bread  beset  the  harassed  Crusaders. 
The  Sultan  of  Iconium  watched  his  moment  when  the 
Christians  were  entangled  amid  the  rocky  clefts  of 
some  new  valley  of  '^El  Tih,"  or  "The  Wandering," 
and  there  cut  almost  the  entire  army  in  pieces  with  the 
edge  of  the  cimeter.  But  the  beaten  Conrad,  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  Antioch,  would  not  again  show  his  sor- 
rowful face  in  the  West,  until  he  had  first  stood  upon 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  bowed  his  knee  at  the  Holy 
Sepulcher.  With  the  sandaled  feet  of  a  pilgrim,  with 
scallop-shell  and  corded  waist,  see  the  humbled  emperor 
of  the  West  enter  the  gate  of  Jerusalem.  And  now, 
having  done  his  great  devoir,  and  ofiered  up  his  70,000 
men  to  a  vague  idea,  (for  the  Holy  City  was  now  only 
threatened,  and  not  possessed,  by  the  Misbelievers,) 
Conrad  III.  wended  his  way  back  to  his  own  Germany, 
attended  by  a  handful  of  followers,  the  mere  shreds  of 
his  brilliant  army.  He  returned,  after  three  years' 
absence,  to  a  troubled  empire,  to  domestic  sorrow,  and 
to  a  speedy  death.  The  sorrow  was  for  the  loss  of  his 
princely  heir,  young  Henry,  King  of  the  Romans ;  and 
as  of  our  Henry  II.  of  England  some  few  years  later, 
so  it  may  perhaps  be  said  of  Conrad,  "he  never  smiled 
again."  Conrad  had  been  kaiser  for  fourteen  years, 
and  never  yet  had  he  received  the  crown  of  the  empire. 
While  he  was  making  ready  for  the  great  ceremonial 
of  coronation,  and  preparing  for  his  journey  into  Italy, 
where  he  would  receive  the  investment,  death  suddenly 
called  him  away,  on  the  15th  of  February,  1152. 
And  so  the  great  Diet  of  the  empire  met  at  Frankfort  to 
elect  another  kaiser.  There  was  a  little  son  left  behind, 
but  his  age  was  too  tender  to  bear  the  iron  weight  of 


THE  DYING   EMPEROR.  71 

power;  and  the  electors  looked  around  for  a  proper 
man,  with  the  true  imperial  stamp  on  his  forehead,  who 
should  be  morally  if  not  physically  higher,  by  the 
head  and  shoulders,  than  all  his  brethren  of  the  land — 
shoulders  that  could  bear  weight,  brows  that  could  en- 
dure pressure.  The  dying  Conrad  had  himself  given  a 
sign  before  his  head  settled  on  the  pillow.  He  had 
pointed  to  his  nephew,  Frederic  Barbarossa,  or  the 
"Red-beard,"  and  had  given  counsel  that  he  should  be 
chosen  to  sit  in  his  place.  Frederic  was  born  in  1121, 
and  his  youthful  vigor  had  hardened  into  the  matured 
strength  of  the  man  of  thirty  years.  But  so  noble  was 
his  prime,  so  fine  his  lordly  presence,  that  they  called 
him  still  "in  the  flower  of  youth."  To  unite  their 
suffrages  upon  Frederic  Barbarossa  was  like  a  "Union 
of  the  Roses"  in  our  own  distracted  England;  for 
already  the  party  names  of  "  Guelph"  and  "  Ghibeline" 
were  rending  the  empire;  and  Frederic  Barbarossa, 
Duke  of  Swabia,  was  claimed  by  each  of  the  great 
factions  of  the  West.  He  was  the  heir  of  the  Ghibe- 
line house  of  Swabia  and  Franconia,  as  grandson  of 
the  Emperor  Henry  V.;  he  was  the  natural  ally  of 
the  Guelph  house  of  Bavaria  and  Saxony,  as  grand- 
son of  Henry  the  Black;  and  he  was  also  nephew  of 
Guelph  VI.,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  and  cousin  of  Henry 
the  Lion,  Duke  of  Saxony,  the  two  doughty  chieftains 
of  the  Guelphic  interest.  It  would  be  a  good  work  to 
arrest  the  flow  of  torrents  of  blood  by  placing  a  firm 
dam  across  the  stream  so  near  the  fountain-head. 
And  truly  the  hope  of  the  electors  of  the  empire,  which 
made  them  of  one  accord,  as  they  sat  in  the  council 
chamber  of  Frankfort,  was  not  betrayed  by  the  result. 


72  FREDEKIC   BARBAROSSA. 

During  almost  the  whole  period  of  Frederic's  remark- 
able reign,  Guelph  and  Ghibeline  marched  under  one 
imperial  standard.  But  as  soon  as  the  Barbarossa 
ceased  to  bind  together  the  adverse  factions,  the  two 
great  parties,  flying  asunder  again  and  spreading  over 
the  Alps  into  Italy,  ranged  themselves  front  against 
front — the  Ghibelines  for  the  empire,  the  Guelphs  for 
the  church.  But  this  is  a  wandering  glance  onward 
into  the  future;  for  the  present,  Germany  rejoiced  in 
her  "Union  of  the  Roses."  Still,  it  is  worth  while  to 
inquire  in  what  unblessed  soil  the  roots  of  these  disas- 
trous party  divisions  first  burst  from  the  seed.  Amid 
the  mountains  of  Hertfeld,  in  the  diocese  of  Augsburg, 
there  was  an  old  castle  called  Gheibelinga,  and  in  the 
garden  of  that  battlemented  castle  first  struck  root  the 
long-lived  weed  of  the  Ghibeline  faction.  On  the  other 
hand,  Bavaria  was  owned  by  a  powerful  house  which 
came  originally  from  Altdorf;  and  as  prince  after 
prince  in  this  family  chanced  to  bear  the  name  of 
Guelfo,  or  Welf,  the  echoes  of  the  neighboring  coun- 
try, familiarized  to  the  sound,  caught  it,  and  made  it 
an  abiding  appellation. 

On  the  very  day  when  Frederic  was  proclaimed  em- 
peror in  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  an  incident  occurred 
which  showed  to  the  assembled  electors  of  the  empire 
that  the  hand  to  whose  keeping  they  had  intrusted  the 
scepter  would  hold  it  with  inflexible  grasp.  There  was 
a  courtier  who  had  fallen  into  disgrace  with  Frederic, 
and  who  had  received  sentence  of  banishment  from  the 
court  of  Swabia.  "In  this  day  of  universal  rejoicing," 
thought  the  banished  man,  "  when  the  heart  of  my  lord 
is  softened  with  success,  I  shall  ask  and  receive  my 


THE   NEW   EMPEROR.  73 

pardon."  In  the  midst  of  the  stately  ceremonial,  the 
exile  forced  his  way  into  the  royal  presence,  prostrated 
himself  at  his  master's  feet,  and  cried,  "  Grace !  grace !" 
The  excitement  spread  to  the  princely  throng,  who, 
without  knowing  the  delinquent's  fault,  joined  in  his 
cry.  The  infection  of  compassion  ran  on  to  the  multi- 
tude without,  who  in  suppliant  tones  repeated  the  plea, 
"grace!  grace!"  Kaiser  Barbarossa  commanded 
silence,  with  a  voice  of  most  masterful  energy,  and  at 
the  very  moment  when  the  anointing  oil  was  to  seal 
him  emperor  of  the  West,  he  declared  to  the  assembly, 
in  a  tone  intrepid  and  severe,  that  "the  sentence 
against  the  culprit  had  been  founded  on  justice,  not 
hate,  and  that  nothing  should  induce  him  to  recall  it." 
Such  was  the  man  who  prepared  himself,  from  the 
moment  when  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  empire,  to 
enforce  the  right,  to  crush  the  wrong,  to  regulate  the 
stormy  disputes  of  Germany,  to  coerce  the  fiery  fac- 
tions of  Italy,  and,  later  in  life,  to  set  his  face  as  a 
flint  against  the  spiritual  and  temporal  encroachments 
of  Rome. 

Frederic  had  been  raised  to  supreme  power  at  the 
Diet  of  Frankfort  by  the  suffrages  of  the  German 
princes ;  and  Italy  found  herself  given  over  to  a  new 
Caesar,  by  the  barbarian  "Hoch!  Hoch!"  of  old  Ger- 
mania,  without  a  single  silvery  ^'JEvvivar'  of  her  own. 
But  turbulent  as  she  was,  Italy  was  willing  to  wait  and 
see  of  what  materials  was  made  this  new  master  from 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine  and  of  the  Main.  Frederic 
was  sitting  in  Diet  at  the  old  Franconian  City  of  Wurz- 
burg,  which  stands  in  so  fine  an  attitude  on  the  margin 
of  the  Main,  and  whose  prince-bishop  had  from  imme-i. 

7  I 


74  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

morial  time  been  an  elector  of  the  empire,  when  the 
envoys  whom  the  new  emperor  had  sent  across  the 
Alps,  to  feel  the  pulse  of  the  people,  returned  to  ren- 
der account  of  their  mission.  It  was  but  a  troublous 
tale  for  the  ear  of  the  newly  anointed.  Jealousies, 
oppressions,  and  fierce  revenges  prevailed  throughout 
the  land.  But  the  envoys  were  accompanied  by  mes- 
sage-bearers from  Pope  Eugene  III.,  entreating  for  suc- 
cor against  his  own  people  of  Rome.  A  "pestilent" 
republican  monk  had  got  among  them,  one  Arnaud  of 
Brescia,  preaching  war  against  the  vices  of  the  clergy 
and  the  worldly  ambition  of  the  church.  This  Arnaud 
of  Brescia  was  a  noticeable  man,  the  Savonarola  of 
his  age.  He  had  studied  in  France,  under  no  less 
remarkable  a  master  than  the  celebrated  Pierre  Abe- 
lard,  and  a  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  master 
and  pupil  which  only  the  more  fatally  exposed  the  lat- 
ter to  the  persecutions  of  the  papacy.  Arnaud's  erudi- 
tion was  profound,  his  manners  pure,  his  faith  orthodox 
according  to  the  definitions  of  Rome,  and  his  eloquence 
of  that  manly  character  which  is  sure  to  secure  intelli- 
gent listeners.  He  lifted  his  resounding  voice  against 
the  corruptions  of  the  church,  rather  than  against  the 
faults  of  her  creed,  and  "the  heresy  in  politics"  was 
the  name  given  by  the  ofi'ended  hierarchy  to  the  wide- 
spreading  opinions  of  Arnaud  of  Brescia.  Condemned 
by  the  Lateran  Council,  he  had  taken  refuge  on  the 
shores  of  the  Lake  Constance;  but  the  implacable 
Bernard  excited  against  the  reforming  Brescian  a  new 
persecution,  and  the  stranger  was  obliged  to  carry  his 
protesting  eloquence  to  Zurich.  In  the  mean  time  ex- 
treme discontent  had  broken  out  at  Rome.     The  secret 


A   EESTORED   REPUBLIC.  75 

disciples  of  Arnaud,  and  all  those  who  hid  in  their 
heart  the  love  of  liberty,  and  the  memory  of  the  old 
glories  of  Rome,  were  chafing  under  the  domination 
of  the  priests.  The  nobles  moved  about  in  the  places 
of  public  resort,  and  talked  fiery  treason  beneath  their 
breath,  behind  marble  columns,  under  crumbling  arches, 
and  amid  the  classic  statues  of  terraced  gardens.  They 
pointed  to  the  silent  remembrancers  of  the  great  past. 
They  whispered  into  the  burning  ear  of  the  degenerate 
people  thrilling  stories  about  the  august  government  of 
the  ancient  times,  talked  of  the  "Conscript  Fathers," 
and  then  pointed  at  the  haughty  priests,  as  they  swept 
by  in  all  the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  a  sumptuous 
hierarchy,  or  at  the  bands  of  mendicant  monks  who, 
under  the  thin  mask  of  sandaled  and  hooded  poverty, 
fattened  upon  the  good  of  the  land.  The  Italians  in- 
tensely love  conspiracy;  a  plot  is  the  most  fascinating 
thing  in  life;  no  splendid  church  ceremonial,  no  grand 
military  display,  can  at  any  time  compete  for  popular 
favor  with  even  the  bare  programme  of  an  insurrection. 
And  so  the  nobles,  in  the  early  half  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, found  eager  auditors  among  the  Roman  populace; 
and  soon  the  scattered  groups  of  listeners  amalgamated 
into  the  proportions  of  a  great  mob;  high-born  and 
low-born  all  mingled  together  in  one  heaving  mass. 
Then  the  chiefs  drew  the  people  after  them  to  the 
Capitol;  and  on  this  memorable  mount,  built  of  the 
very  dust  of  ages,  which,  as  one  plants  the  foot  there- 
on, thrills  one  to  the  heart  with  living  memories,  a 
restored  republic  was  inaugurated,  and  the  Roman 
Senate  restored.  Pope  Innocent  II.  could  not  survive 
this  unexpected  blow ;  he  died  a  few  days  afterward  of 


76  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

chagrin.  Pope  Celestin  II.  reigned  too  short  a  time 
to  do  much  in  the  way  of  repression,  and  he,  too,  died 
before  he  could  check  the  rising  power  of  the  people. 
Lucius  II.  had  the  mortification  of  seeing  the  Romans 
replace  the  prefect  of  the  city  whom  he  had  himself 
appointed,  by  a  new  first  magistrate,  under  the  sound- 
ing name  of  patrician  of  Rome;  and  to  add  to  his 
humiliation,  this  dignified  official  was  brother  of  the 
dead  anti-pope,  Anaclet.  But  Lucius  II.  determined 
to  besiege  his  enemies  on  the  sacred  mount,  and  even 
to  storm  the  Capitol.  Surrounding  himself  with  a 
spiritual  army  of  priests,  and  with  a  temporal  force  of 
armed  men,  the  pope  marched  to  old  "  Mons  Capitoli- 
nus."  The  senatorial  garrison  was  at  first  alarmed  by 
this  imposing  array  of  earthly  and  unearthly  powers ; 
but  presently  the  people,  who  had  rushed  to  the  defense 
of  their  "Patres  Conscripti,"  poured  down  upon  the 
pontifical  forces  a  hailstorm  of  stones,  quarried  for  the 
occasion  from  out  the  ruin-mound  of  empire.  Alas, 
for  the  belligerent  bishop  of  Rome !  A  classic  frag- 
ment, flung  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  a  Roman,  struck 
him,  and  caused  the  retreat  of  his  little  army,  with  his 
own  death  a  few  days  afterward.  Into  such  wild  eddies 
was  the  stream  of  events  hurried  in  the  twelfth  century 
of  our  Christian  era,  and  at  the  very  heart  of  Christen- 
dom. Eugene  III.,  a  disciple  of  St.  Bernard  of  Clair- 
vaux,  was  elected  to  wear  the  vacant  tiara,  but  he  was 
only  too  glad  to  escape  from  the  heavings  of  this  vol- 
canic soil ;  and  while  he  was  out  on  pontifical  tour,  visit- 
ing the  churches  of  Italy  and  of  France,  Arnaud,  the 
eloquent  monk  of  Brescia,  was  recalled  from  the  deep 
valleys  of  Switzerland,  and  returned  to  Rome,  attended 


MARVELOUS   CHANGES.  77 

by  a  resolute  band  of  Swiss  mountaineers.  Then  suc- 
ceeded a  series  of  marvelous  changes,  all  based  upon 
old  classic  models ;  an  equestrian  order  took  its  place 
as  connecting  link  between  senators  and  plebeians; 
consuls  were  appointed  to  preside  over  the  senate, 
tribunes  to  defend  the  cause  of  the  people;  and  the 
rights  of  the  German  emperor  were  restricted  within 
narrower  and  more  ascertained  limits,  while  the  pope  was 
forbidden  to  interfere  in  secular  afiairs.  Such  was  the 
"political  heresy"  of  Arnaud  of  Brescia;  such  the 
reformed  system  which  he  sought  to  introduce  into  the 
city  of  the  Caesars;  such  the  position  of  affairs  which 
was  revealed  to  Frederic  Barbarossa  by  his  Italian 
envoys,  while  he  presided  over  the  Diet  at  the  old  City 
of  Wurzburg ;  and  it  was  against  this  Arnaud  of  Bres- 
cia and  the  rebellious  Romans  that  Pope  Eugene  III. 
entreated  the  aid  of  the  newly-anointed  kaiser.  Fred- 
eric burned  to  step  into  so  congenial  a  field.  Were 
there  disorders  on  the  further  side  of  the  Alps?  he 
would  come  and  suppress  them  in  a  moment.  Rebellion 
in  Rome  against  pope  and  kaiser?  he  would  come  and 
see  what  this  strange  sound  signified.  And  so  he 
signed  a  treaty  of  alliance  with  that  papal  power  with 
which  hereafter  he  should  be  so  seriously  at  issue.  He 
promised  to  re-establish  the  forlorn  pope  on  the  chair 
of  St.  Peter,  and  in  return  he  received  a  promise  that 
the  pontiff  would  place  the  imperial  diadem  on  his  head. 
An  edict  presently  went  forth  that  all  vassals  of  the 
Germanic  empire  should  make  ready  to  march  with 
their  lord  over  the  mountains  of  snow  and  down  into 
the  fair  land  of  the  South. 

'  More  wrongs  to  be  righted  ? — I  will  come  and  see 
T* 


78  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

into  the  matter."  Such  in  substance  was  the  reply  of 
the  chivah'ous  monarch  to  two  weeping  citizens  of 
Lodi,  who,  with  cross  in  hand,  pressed  through  the 
crowd  of  princes  that  surrounded  the  Barbarossa  as  he 
again  sat  at  the  Diet  of  Constance.  The  City  of  Lodi, 
at  whose  bridge  over  the  Adda  the  stranger  now  looks 
with  such  painful  interest,  as  the  scene  of  one  of  the 
most  sanguinary  struggles  between  Napoleon  and  Aus- 
tria, had  been  subjected  by  the  neighboring  Republic 
of  Milan.  Those  Italian  republics  were  possessed  by 
the  most  gnawing  appetite  for  conquest.  Liberty  was 
but  another  name  for  the  law  of  self-aggrandizement. 
The  enslaved  citizens  of  Lodi,  flinging  themselves  at 
the  feet  of  Frederic,  poured  forth  a  tide  of  passionate 
Italian  eloquence;  but  scarce  a  word  of  that  clear 
melodious  tongue  was  apprehended  by  ears  accustomed 
to  the  throat-language  of  the  German  Fatherland. 
Yet  the  bursting  sobs,  the  streaming  tears,  the  expres- 
sive pantomime  of  action,  the  pleading  passionate 
sounds,  so  musical  and  so  sorrowful,  did  ali  that  was 
needed  for  the  citizens  of  Lodi.  "  Restore  their  rights 
to  the  people  of  Lodi!"  Thus  said  an  imperial  rescript 
which  was  instantly  addressed  to  the  haughty  Milanese. 
"Restore  the  rights  of  Lodi?"  Could  the  grave  give 
back  its  prey  ?  The  City  of  old  Lodi  had  been  reduced 
to  ashes  by  the  Milanese  full  forty  years  before ;  and 
the  wall-less  town  on  the  Adda's  brink  which  had 
begun  to  rise  from  the  field  of  cinders  was  but  eighteen 
miles  from  the  gates  of  Milan.  The  community  was 
scattered  about  in  open  villages,  amid  trellised  vines 
that  festooned  themselves  from  tree  to  tree,  now  catch- 
ing at  the  bough  of  a  mulberry,  now  flinging  a  wreath- 


i 


p 

M: 


lll|lh^l|lil|,'t,llv   If^ 


/ 


^^'^'■^H«:i 


BARBAROSSAS  ANSWER  TO  THE  CITIZENS  OF  LODI. 

'More  wrongs  to  be  righted?    I  will  come  and  see  into  the  matter."    Such  in  substance 
was  the  reply  of  the  chivalrous  monarch.— Page  78. 


f 


LODISAN   WANDERERS.  79 

ing  tendril  around  the  beautiful  branch  of  an  acacia. 
Thus  were  the  people  wholly  unprotected,  when  the 
official  from  the  German  court  presented  himself  with 
the  edict,  and  summoned  the  magistrates  of  those  clus- 
tered villages  which  formed  the  sad  remains  of  old 
Lodi.  The  consternation  was  universal.  "The  em- 
peror not  coming  until  next  year?  and  yet  the  venge- 
ance of  Milan  to  be  prematurely  provoked !  For  pity's 
sake,  keep  back  the  edict  until  the  emperor  himself  be 
ready  to  enforce  it!"  But  the  Barbarossa's  command 
could  brook  no  delay  in  execution;  and  the  envoy 
passed  next  to  Milan.  If  there  were  terror  in  Lodi, 
there  was  fury  in  Milan.  The  imperious  rescript  was 
torn  from  the  hand  of  the  messenger  and  stamped 
under  foot.  Lombard  rage  was  no  light  matter ;  and 
with  diflS'culty  did  the  German  official  escape  with  his 
life.  In  the  mean  while,  long  lines  of  Lodisan  women 
and  children,  loaded  with  such  precious  eflfects  as  were 
portable,  were  to  be  seen  branching  off  over  the  flat 
plains,  to  cry  for  sanctuary  at  the  gates  of  Pavia  and 
old  Cremonia;  while  the  men  of  the  households  hid 
themselves  by  day  and  wandered  at  night  in  their 
woods  and  fields,  listening  for  the  expected  tread  of 
armed  bands  from  Milan.  Such  is  a  picture  of  the 
Italian  republics  in  an  age  emphatically  called  "dark." 
It  is,  however,  relieving  to  know  that  the  rage  of  the 
Milanese  evaporated  in  words,  when  the  rumor  reached 
them  that  the  Caesar  with  the  fiery  beard  was  not  a 
man  whom  it  was  safe  to  exasperate;  and  therefore 
the  poor  homesteads  of  the  Lodisan  territory  were  not 
forthwith  consumed,  nor  her  harvests  swept  into  the 
storehouse  of  Milan. 


80  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

But  now  comes  the  month  of  October,  1154,  when 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  being  joined  by  his  vassal  lords 
with  their  contingents,  crossed  the  barrier  mountains 
by  the  valley  of  Trent,  and  pitched  on  the  beautiful 
shores  of  the  Lago  di  Garda.  Never  had  predecessor 
of  his  led  so  brilliant  an  array  from  the  oak  forests  of 
Germany  down  upon  the  olive  plains  and  vineyards  of 
Italy.  When  Frederic  reached  the  plain  of  Roncaglia, 
which  borders  the  sweeping  river  Po  near  Piacenza, 
he  traced  his  camp,  and  opened  the  ^'Oomitia'  of  the 
kingdom  of  Italy,  in  accord  with  ancient  usage.  And 
then  the  broad  shield  of  Frederic  of  HohenstauiFen, 
Emperor  of  Germany  and  King  of  Italy,  was  affixed 
to  a  tall  pole,  and  blazed  out  to  the  sun  from  above 
the  imperial  tent.  In  that  pavilion  sat  the  court  of 
appeal ;  and  he  who  had  plaint  to  make  or  plea  to 
urge,  came  with  the  cry  "Justice!  Justice!"  There 
was  the  Marquis  of  Montferrat  pleading  against  the 
City  of  Asti.  There  was  the  Bishop  of  Asti  accusing 
his  own  flock.  There  were  the  messengers  of  trembling 
Lodi  again  lifting  up  their  voice;  and  there  were  the 
consuls  of  Milan  ready  to  respond.  The  tears  of  Lodi, 
which  had  been  so  abundantly  shed  at  the  Diet  of 
Constance  the  year  before,  had  prejudged  the  case  in 
the  heart  of  Frederic.  But  Frederic's  mode  of  doing 
justice  was  after  a  most  rough  and  barbarian  fashion; 
and  his  onward  march  to  Home,  after  breaking  up  the 
comitia  of  Roncaglia,  left  a  long  line  of  desolation  be- 
hind him,  like  the  black  and  smoking  track  of  a  con- 
quering army.  The  Germans  had  strong  appetites, 
not  easily  appeased ;  and  they  ate  up  the  land  without 
remorse,  paying   for   nothing   as   they  went.      They 


TORTONA   RAZED.  81 

liked  to  be  well  housed  on  their  march;  but  they  fre- 
quently finished  the  night's  rest  by  setting  fire  to  the 
castle,  palace,  or  village  where  they  had  found  repose. 
If  the  bridge  which  bore  the  army  across  a  river  hap- 
pened to  link  together  banks  which  belonged  to  the 
Milanese,  or  to  some  ally  of  theirs,  the  bridge  was  de- 
stroyed as  soon  as  the  last  Swabian  or  Franconian  had 
tramped  across  it.  Thus  were  justice  and  oppression, 
pity  and  enmity,  confounded  together  in  the  rude  un- 
taught soul  of  a  hero  of  the  dark  ages.  But  a  very 
ruthless  fate  awaited  the  City  of  Tortona.  Tortona 
was  an  ally  of  unpardoned  Milan,  and  when  required 
to  renounce  their  old  alliance,  the  magistrates  boldly 
replied,  that  they  "were  not  accustomed  to  abandon 
their  friends  when  in  misfortune."  For  this  noble 
response,  Tortona  was  put  to  the  ban  of  the  empire, 
and  the  unswerving  Frederic  sat  down  at  the  base  of 
the  steep  hill,  a  spur  of  the  Ligurian  Alps,  on  which 
stood  the  fortress.  For  two  months  did  he  sit  there, 
exhausting  all  his  military  skill  and  his  abounding 
means  for  the  reduction  of  one  of  the  least  powerful 
of  the  Lombard  cities;  and  at  the  end  of  the  siege, 
conquered  by  intolerable  thirst  alone,  and  not  by  force 
of  arms,  (for  their  one  fountain  of  water  was  outside 
the  walls,)  the  emaciated  people  of  Tortona  were  per- 
mitted to  march  out  on  the  road  toward  Milan,  scarce 
able  to  drag  one  feeble  foot  after  the  other.  And 
when  the  brave  people  had  all  crept  outside  the  crum- 
bled walls,  Frederic  gave  command  to  raze  this  ancient 
city  even  with  the  ground.  Such  was  the  stern  mode 
of  setting  things  right,  such  the  approved  plan  of  cor- 
recting abuses,  in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century. 


82  FREDERIC    BARBAROSSA. 

While  the  intrepid  exiles,  with  their  sick  wives  and 
their  little  wasted  children,  were  received  with  accla- 
mations at  Milan,  as  an  army  of  martyrs,  Frederic 
marched  in  triumph  into  Pavia,  where  he  caused  him- 
self to  be  crowned  with  the  iron  crown  of  Lombardy 
in  the  Church  of  San-Michele,  ancient  even  at  that 
early  day.  But  eager  to  be  crowned  emperor  as  well 
as  king,  Frederic  checked  his  passionate  love  of  right- 
ing wrongs,  and,  traversing  Tuscany  without  provoking 
further  opposition,  drew  near  to  Rome. 

Popes  had  still  been  dying  fast.  To  sit  with  tiaraed 
brow,  jeweled  finger,  and  worshipful  slipper,  in  the 
chair  of  the  Galilean  fisherman,  for  twelve  months,  was 
a  long  pontificate,  as  times  went.  Eugene  III.,  who 
had  prayed  Frederic  to  come  to  Rome  and  rid  him  of 
his  enemies,  was  already  dead.  Anastasius  IV.,  who 
had  reigned  a  year,  was  dead  also.  And  now  Adrian 
IV.  sat  in  the  papal  chair.  We  must  pause  a  little 
over  Adrian.  He  is  remarkable  as  having  been  the 
only  Englishman  who  has  ever  occupied  that  preten- 
tious seat — remarkable  as  having  climbed  up  to  so  lofty 
an  elevation  from  the  very  lowest  level  of  society. 
Nicholas  Brekespere  was  born  in  some  cottage  home  at 
Langley,  in  Hertfordshire,  and  the  poor  lad  was  em- 
ployed by  the  monks  of  St.  Albans  in  performing  little 
menial  offices  about  the  abbey.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
mendicant,  and  the  boy  became  a  wandering  mendicant 
like  his  father.  But,  instead  of  confining  his  rounds 
to  the  highways  and  byways  of  Hertfordshire,  he  man- 
aged to  cross  the  Channel,  and  to  ask  alms  in  the 
cities  and  villages  of  France.  Begging  once  at  the 
gates  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Rufus  in  fair  Provenge, 


THE   ENGLISH   POPE.  83 

the  kindly  monks  took  in  the  young  English  stranger, 
and  made  him  a  servant  to  their  order.  The  welcome 
home  was  too  pleasant  to  be  immediately  left  for 
further  wanderings  ;  and  Nicholas  Brekespere  took  the 
vows  of  a  brother,  and  settled  into  a  little  cell  of  his 
own.  Brother  Nicholas  was  evidently  a  rising  man, 
and  his  buoyancy  lifted  him  through  all  intermediate 
degrees,  until  he  attained  to  the  rank  of  abbot  and 
general  of  his  order.  Father  Nicholas,  now  my  lord 
abbot,  then  thought  it  time  to  move  on  again,  and  he 
traversed  Italy,  to  bow  before  Eugene  III.  at  Rome. 
Still  Father  Nicholas  was  rising,  and  wandering  still, 
for  Eugene  sent  him  as  legate  to  Norway  and  Den- 
mark, where  he  preached  so  mightily,  that  large  num- 
bers of  Scandinavians  became  obedient  sons  of  the 
church.  But  it  was  now  high  time  to  move  on  again 
southward,  for  this  was  the  period  when  the  popes  were 
dying  so  fast,  and  leaving  the  most  exciting  vacancies 
in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter.  When  the  College  of  Cardi- 
nals met  in  conclave,  after  the  termination  of  the 
twelve  months'  reign  of  Anastasius  IV.,  it  was  on  the 
Englishman  that  their  suffrages  were  found  to  meet; 
and  the  new  pontiff  was  announced  to  Christendom 
under  the  name  of  Adrian  TV,  It  was  soon  felt  that 
it  was  no  spectral  illusion,  no  shadowy  ghost  of  unreal 
power,  which  was  now  sitting  on  the  throne  of  spiritual 
empire.  Adrian  IV.  was  a  very  real  personage,  stoutly 
built  of  bone  and  sinew — a  very  muscular  pope,  feeling 
the  strength  that  lay  in  his  own  strong  arm,  and  long- 
ing to  use  it. 

But  where  was  Arnaud  of  Brescia  all  this  time? 
Arnaud  had  been  quietly  livin|'  for  years  past  in  the 


84  FREDERIC  BARBAROSSA. 

City  of  Rome,  shielded  by  the  senate,  and  beloved  by 
the  people.  From  time  to  time  he  had  certainly  lifted 
up  his  eloquent  voice  against  the  usurpations  and  the 
vices  of  the  clergy;  but  he  had  been  leading  a  peace- 
able and  exemplary  life,  in  the  practice  of  the  virtues 
which  he  loved.  Scarcely,  however,  had  the  English- 
man attained  to  power,  when  he  placed  under  an  inter- 
dict his  own  city — that  city  which  claimed  to  be  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  metropolis  of  the  world.  The 
inhabitants  were  astounded;  for  never,  in  all  the  over- 
turns of  past  times,  had  this  terrible  spiritual  chastise- 
ment been  administered  to  them.  Easter  was  approach- 
ing; and  should  they  be  deprived  of  their  brilliant 
festivals,  the  beautiful  galas  of  their  church?  In  the 
sackcloth  and  ashes  of  a  protracted  Lent,  were  they  to 
fast  on  into  Easter?  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of! 
And  to  check  the  incipient  murmurings  of  the  people, 
the  senate,  by  way  of  compromise,  thought  it  wise  to 
recommend  Arnaud  to  remove  himself  from  Rome. 
When  that  one  man  walked  out  of  the  city,  which  thus 
proved  itself  unworthy  of  his  presence,  the  "Holy 
Father"  was  reconciled  to  his  penitent  children,  and 
the  interdict  was  removed.  Arnaud  of  Brescia  now 
took  refuge  in  the  castle  of  a  count  who  dwelt  in  the 
Campagna  of  Rome;  and  in  the  country  palace  of  his 
friend,  in  the  heart  of  that  desolate  region,  where  the 
turf  swells  over  ruined  cities — a  very  graveyard  of  the 
past — Arnaud  of  Brescia  awaited  the  coming  of  Kaiser 
Barbarossa.  Deputies  from  the  two  irreconcilable 
parties  had  gone  forth  to  meet  the  Swabian.  Adrian's 
embassy  was  fittingly  composed  of  three  cardinals,  who 
must  have  told  their  tale  with  better  skill  than  the  mes- 


ARNAUD    IN    CHAINS.  85 

sengers  of  the  Roman  senate ;  for,  while  they  engaged 
that  the  emperor  should  receive  the  crown  imperial 
from  the  holy  hand  of  the  pope,  they  obtained  in  re- 
turn the  renewed  promise  that  he  would  aid  in  subdu- 
ing the  Romans.  And  what  was  Frederic's  first  act  in 
fulfillment  of  the  compact?  He  sent  to  the  Campag- 
nian  villa,  where  Arnaud  was  quietly  abiding,  tore  him 
from  his  noble  protector,  carried  him  off,  and  delivered 
him  into  the  eager  hands  of  the  prefect  of  Rome — an 
office-bearer  appointed  by  the  pope,  and  entirely  a 
creature  of  his  own.  One  evening,  the  Romans  were 
stupefied  by  the  sight  of  their  beloved  leader  carried  as 
prisoner  to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo. 

There  were  sounds  stirring  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo 
that  night — sounds  as  of  men  carrying  loads,  and  all 
tending  to  one  spot,  just  inside  the  Porta  del  Popolo — 
that  memorable  gate  by  which  Constantino  the  Great 
entered  the  city  in  triumph,  and  where  the  traveler  who 
has  come  down  through  Tuscany  still  knocks  for  admit- 
tance into  the  metropolis  of  the  old  Roman  world.  But 
the  people  of  Rome  slept  well  that  night ;  they  took  no 
heed  to  the  portentous  sounds.  In  the  dawn  of  the 
early  morning,  there  were  stealthy  steps  which  trav- 
ersed the  streets  that  lie  betwixt  the  Castle  of  St.  An- 
gelo and  the  Porta  del  Popolo.  There  was  the  unmis- 
takable tramp  of  armed  men,  but  still  the  people  slept 
on.  If  but  a  single  senator  had  left  his  silken  canopy, 
if  but  one  of  the  tribunes,  nay,  if  even  one  of  the 
people  had  but  sprung  from  his  maize  bed  and  looked 
down  from  his  window  upon  the  mysterious  procession, 
it  might  have  sufficed.  He  would  have  seen  that  the 
terrible  prefect  of  the  city,  who  had  remained  through 

8 


86  FREDERIC    BARBAROSSA. 

the  night  hours  with  his  captive  in  the  Castle  of  St. 
Angelo,  was  carrying  him  to  a  great  mound  of  faggots 
which  had  been  heaped  up  during  the  darkness  in  the 
Piazza  del  Popolo.  Is  there  no  one  alive  to  give  the 
signal  to  the  fiery  Romans,  that  he  around  whom  they 
have  for  years  builded  a  living  wall  of  defense,  whom 
they  have  treasured  as  their  most  precious  pledge  of 
liberty,  on  whose  eloquent  words  they  have  fed  their 
hope  of  the  future  and  nourished  the  fond  memory  of 
the  great  past,  is  now  led  before  their  very  homes  on 
his  way  to  the  stake  ?  One  single  glimpse  of  the  scene 
that  was  being  enacted,  and  the  tocsin  of  alarm  would 
have  rung  throughout  Rome  in  a  moment,  and  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  would  have  rushed  to  the  rescue. 
But  Rome  had  indeed  fallen  into  a  dead  sleep.  Placed 
with  his  back  to  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  the  "  Gate  of 
the  People,"  at  the  base  of  the  Pincian  Hill,  Arnaud 
of  Brescia  could  sweep  with  his  eyes  the  three  long 
streets  which  diverge  from  the  piazza,  and  pierce 
through  the  heart  of  the  city,  traversing  the  half  of 
Rome.  Immediately  opposite  to  him  was  the  Corso, 
following  the  old  Via  Flaminia  straight  up  to  the  Cap- 
itol; on  the  right  the  Via  Ripetta,  which  tracks  the 
tawny  stream  of  old  Father  Tiber;  on  the  left  the  Via 
Babuino,  which  leads  onward  to  the  Quirinal  Hill,  and 
to  the  papal  palace  which  surmounts  it.  His  eye  could 
command  these  three  great  arteries  of  Rome,  and  he 
saw  that  not  a  single  pulse  of  life  throbbed  along  their 
course.  And  now  the  long,  sharp  tongues  of  flame  are 
darting  upward,  and  speaking  to  him  the  unmistakable 
language  of  death.  At  last,  the  flare  of  the  burning 
pile,  the  crackling  of  the  wood,  the  hurried  trampling 


ARNAUD    NO   MORE.  87 

of  the  papal  soldiers  around,  all  awaken  the  people. 
They  spring  from  their  beds,  they  hurry  to  and  fro, 
hither  and  thither;  they  arm;  they  rush  madly  to  the 
spot — too  late!  A  close  girdle  of  the  papal  guard 
surrounds  the  blaze,  and  with  their  lances  they  charge 
back  the  tumultuous  Romans,  who  press  around  in  their 
strong  agony,  at  least  to  gather  up  a  handful  of  the 
precious  ashes  of  their  Arnaud  of  Brescia. 

The  one  English  pope  had  gained  the  day;  he  had 
conquered  his  people ;  and  now  he  proceeded  to  crown 
the  emperor  whose  filial  hand  had  furnished  him  with 
the  sacrificial  victim.  Adrian  IV.,  attended  by  his 
court  circle  of  cardinals,  went  to  meet  Frederic  Bar- 
barossa  on  the  road  to  Viterbo.  Viterbo,  the  old  "  city 
of  fine  fountains  and  fair  women,"  as  sang  the  Italian 
poets  of  the  middle  ages,  springs  from  the  roots  of 
Monte  Cimino,  and  is  memorable  for  its  ancient  Etrus- 
can associations,  as  the  spot  where  met  the  general  as- 
semblies of  their  cities.  Here  Frederic  awaited  Adrian. 
They  were  well  matched  in  pride,  matched  in  strength 
of  will.  There  are  tremendous  interests  at  stake, 
wrapped  up  in  mere  points  of  etiquette.  Upon  the 
bare  holding  of  a  mule's  stirrup  hangs  the  independ- 
ence of  an  empire,  or  the  imperious  assumption  of  a 
hierarchy;  peace  or  war,  vassalage  or  suzerainty,  bans, 
interdicts,  excommunications,  hang  upon  that  white 
mule's  stirrup!  Frederic  Barbarossa  stands  moveless 
in  the  piazza  before  the  cathedral,  itself  raised  upon 
the  dust  of  the  ancient  temple  of  Hercules.  What 
will  the  tawny  Hercules  of  the  Swabian  forests  do 
now  ?  What  will  the  British  priest  ?  The  white  mule 
stops,  but  Kaiser  Barbarossa  stirs  not  a  step  on  the 


88  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

pavement.  Very  well;  then  Adrian  will  neither  ac- 
cept nor  bestow  the  kiss  of  peace,  on  which  loving 
salute  everything  in  the  future  of  each  will  depend. 
For  some  time  German  and  Briton  look  one  another 
full  in  the  face.  But  there  is  a  little  knot  of  officials 
from  the  papal  chancery  crowding  around  the  emperor, 
and  whispering  soft  counsels  into  his  unwilling  ear: 
"Lothaire  did  it,  my  lord;  the  Emperor  Lothaire  held 
the  stirrup.  It  means  nothing ;  'tis  but  a  gentle  cour- 
tesy;  no  dignity  is  compromised."  "Then,  this  I  do  as 
a  mere  proof  of  Christian  humility ;  yet  not  to  the  pope, 
but  to  the  apostle  whom  he  represents."  And  Frederic 
seized  the  bridle,  and  held  the  stirrup  while  the  tri- 
umphant Adrian  slowly  alighted  from  his  white  mule. 
The  pope  had  conquered  again. 

Twenty  miles  nearer  Rome,  not  far  from  Nepi,  Fred- 
eric encountered  an  imposing  deputation  from  the  Ro- 
man senate.  They  had  come  to  demand  the  confirma- 
tion of  the  antique  forms  of  government  which  they 
had  essayed  to  establish,  and  talked  loftily  of  stipulat- 
ing with  the  German  emperor  about  the  imperial  dig- 
nity. "I  am  your  master  by  right  of  succession,  as 
the  heir  of  Charlemagne  and  of  Otho,"  was  the  reply 
of  the  haughty  kaiser.  "  They  conquered  you  by  their 
valor;  hence  it  is  my  business  to  prescribe  laws,  and 
yours  to  obey  them.  If  I  do  good  to  my  subjects,  I 
but  follow  the  impulse  of  my  own  heart;  no  duty 
obliges,  no  oath  binds  me."  And  then  Frederic 
described  to  the  envoys,  with  withering  contempt,  the 
degeneracy  that'  had  fallen  upon  their  nation,  and  the 
weakness  that  had  succeeded  to  the  strength  of  their 
fathers.     With  this   he  loftily  waved  them  from  his 


STRUGGLING    ROMANS.  89 

presence.  But  the  deputies  found  themselves  followed 
by  a  troop  of  a  thousand  horse,  which  entered  with 
them  through  the  gates  and  took  possession  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  city.  It  was  that  part  of  Rome  where  now 
stands  the  world's  grandest  Christian  temple,  and  the 
splendid  palace  of  the  Vatican,  with  all  its  priceless 
treasures.  The  Basilica  which  then  stood  on  the  site 
of  the  old  oratory  raised  by  St.  Anacletus  in  the  year 
90,  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  Apostle  St.  Peter  had 
been  laid,  was  built  in  306  by  the  great  Constantine ; 
and  it  was  here  that  on  the  morrow  the  golden  diadem 
of  the  empire  was  to  be  placed  on  the  head  of  Fred- 
eric by  the  hands  of  Adrian.  The  German  horse  also 
took  care  to  seize  and  barricade  the  bridge  beneath  the 
gloomy  walls  of  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  by  which 
pope  and  kaiser  were  on  the  following  morning  to  pass 
to  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's.  Groaning  and  chafing- 
with  suppressed  indignation,  the  republican  Romans 
watched  the  great  military  procession  as  it  wound  into 
Rome  and  wound  out  again  on  the  morrow,  in  contempt- 
uous indifference  to  their  suffrages  and  their  sanction. 
Scarcely  had  the  newly-crowned  emperor  left  the  city 
on  his  return  to  his  camp  without  the  walls,  when  the 
rage  of  the  people  overflowed  all  barriers,  and  they 
fell  upon  the  followers  of  that  monarch  who  had  so 
lately  delivered  over  to  their  stern  spiritual  lord  the 
well-beloved  Arnaud  of  Brescia.  The  rumor  of  a  con- 
flict behind  them  reached  the  farther  end  of  the  great 
military  array,  and  Frederic  Barbarossa  instantly  re- 
traced his  steps.  All  day  long  the  Romans  maintained 
the  struggle,  in  the  streets,  in  their  houses,  under  the 
arches,  on  the  bridges ;  and  at  the  close  Frederic  could 

8* 


90  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

count  a  thousand  dead  Romans,  and  two  hundred  pris- 
oners. And  then  Adrian — having  professed  to  cleanse 
the  stained  hands  of  the  ferocious  German  soldiery  by 
the  mockery  of  a  solemn  absolution — the  triumphant 
pope  and  the  self-satisfied  emperor  retired  to  the 
neighborhood  of  classic  Tivoli — Tivoli  sung  by  spark- 
ling Horace  and  by  stately  Virgil;  the  retreat  of  Nu- 
midian  Syphax;  the  scene  of  the  splendid  exile  of 
Palmyra's  proud  Orient  Queen ;  the  haunted  shrine  of 
the  mysterious  Tiburtine  Sibyl!  But  soon  Frederic's 
ear  caught  the  dissatisfied  murmurs  both  of  his  soldiers 
and  of  their  captains,  who,  enervated  by  the  summer 
heat  of  a  southern  clime,  so  intolerable  to  his  hardy 
Germans,  alike  longed  t?  regain  their  homes  in  the 
cool  pine  forests  of  Germany,  or  their  pleasant  man- 
sions in  cities  whose  walls  were  bathed  by  the  fast  roll- 
ing Danube  or  the  beloved  and  beautiful  Rhine.  And 
so  Frederic,  in  full  career  of  conquest,  was  under  the 
humiliating  necessity  of  seeing  his  army  break  up  into 
fragments,  and  disappear  on  every  northward  track. 
More  leisurely,  and  with  a  very  firm  step,  though 
stripped  of  his  glittering  array,  did  the  Barbarossa  him- 
self leave  Italy,  after  his  twelve  months'  campaign,  by 
the  same  Valley  of  Trent  through  which  he  had 
poured  his  legions  down  upon  the  land  of  the  olive 
and  the  vine. 

Scarcely  had  Frederic  Barbarossa  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  his  German  afi'airs,  when  rumors  came  over  the 
mountains,  to  the  efi'ect  that  the  man  whose  stirrup  he 
had  humbled  himself  to  hold,  in  consideration  of  the 
golden  diadem  which  he  was  to  place  on  his  brows,  had 
already  been  bartering  away  several  of  the  gems  which 


LETTERS  FROM  THE  POPE.  91 

made  that  crown  of  empire  precious.  To  William  the 
Norman,  King  of  Sicily,  the  investiture  not  only  of 
Sicily,  but  of  Naples  and  of  Apulia,  had  been  given  by 
Adrian.  Other  offenses  soon  arose.  Some  German 
lords  had  laid  their  rude  hands  upon  an  archbishop 
somewhere  in  the  north,  and  put  him  under  arrest. 
The  hierarchy  was  enraged  at  the  sacrilege;  and  pres- 
ently the  Pope's  nuncios  appeared  at  Besan^on,  where 
Frederic  was  presiding  over  the  Diet,  bearing  letters 
from  the  Englishman  which  were  worthy  of  Hildebrand 
himself.  "Your  father  and  ours,  the  blessed  Pope 
Adrian,  and  the  cardinals  your  brothers,  salute  you," 
said  the  nuncios.  It  was  not  very  cooling  to  the  tem- 
per or  to  the  sanguineous  complexion  of  Kaiser  Bar- 
barossa  to  be  thus  addressed;  but  when  the  document 
itself  was  read,  Frederic  boiled  over  with  uncontrol- 
lable indignation.  "We  have  accorded  to  thee  the 
crown  imperial,"  so  the  words  ran,  "and  we  should  not 
have  regretted  conferring  on  thee  a  still  greater  hene- 
fieium,  if  thou,"  etc.  Now,  that  offensive^  word  bene- 
Jicium  was  the  very  kernel  of  the  bitter  nut.  It 
served  to  define  the  fief,  or  benefice,  conferred  by  a 
suzerain  lord.  There  was  a  grand  "flare-up"  in^thfe 
Diet  when  these  words  were  read;  for  the  Ger^n^h 
electors  sympathized  in  the  rage  of  their  master;  -and 
Frederic,  rising  in  sore  displeasure,  commanded  the 
nuncios  to  leave  his  realm  on  the  instant,  without  word 
or  letter  to  their  master. 

Again  was  the  signal  made  for  all  the  great  vassals 
of  the  empire  to  make  ready  for  an  Italian  campaign. 
Again  every  pass  of  the  Alps  was  living  with  armed 
men.      Hungarians,    Franconians,    Burgundians,    the 


92  FREDEEIC    BARBAROSSA. 

people  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  feudal  chiefs  of  Lorraine 
and  of  Bohemia,  broke  the  snows  of  the  Great  St. 
Bernard,  poured  down  upon  the  queenly  Como,  or 
tramped  heavily  through  the  paths  of  the  Tyrol,  or 
along  the  torn  banks  of  the  Ticino  or  the  Adige.  It 
is  not  needful  to  retrace  in  detail  the  darkly-shaded 
story  of  this  second  Italian  campaign.  But  the  same- 
ness at  least  of  the  dismal  history  is  broken  by  the 
emperor's  complete  conquest  over  the  Milanese.  The 
Milanese  had  renewed  the  unequal  struggle  with  the 
Barbarossa,  with  marvelous  energy  and  spirit.  But, 
though  they  yielded  not  to  force  of  arms,  they  suc- 
cumbed before  the  deadly  grip  of  hunger.  From  the 
towers  of  their  fair  city  they  looked  abroad,  as  the 
traveler  now  looks  from  the  glittering  summits  of 
Milan's  cathedral,  built  of  marble  so  white  that  it 
might  have  been  quarried  from  the  crystal  mine  of  an 
Alpine  glacier :  they  looked  abroad  over  the  flat  plains 
of  Lombardy,  and  far  as  eye  could  reach,  the  rich  har- 
vests of  this  wide  garden-land  were  swept  by  the  besom 
of  destruction.  If  the  friendly  peasants  crept  up  to  the 
walls  with  their  little  offerings  of  food  for  the  starving 
city,  they  were  seized  and  cruelly  punished.  And 
then  the  eight  consuls,  and  eight  other  cavaliers,  yield- 
ing to  the  cry  of  the  perishing  people,  went  forth  to 
present  themselves  before  Frederic  at  Lodi,  on  the  1st 
of  March,  1162.  With  their  swords  in  their  hands, 
they  there  surrendered  the  city  to  the  discretion  of 
the  emperor.  This  was  not  enough  to  appease  the  ire 
of  Kaiser  Barbarossa.  All  Italy  must  know,  by  one 
great  overmastering  example,  that  to  oppose  the  will 
of  Frederic  of  Hohenstauffen,  surnamed  Barbarossa., 


MILAN   IN   TEARS.  93 

was  assuredly  to  reap  the  whirlwind  of  desolation. 
This  was  to  be  the  great  lesson  of  his  own  teaching, 
sternly  taught,  humbly  learned,  once  and  forever.  A 
few  days  after  the  act  of  official  surrender,  a  long  pro- 
cession was  seen  approaching  in  funereal  guise  along 
the  road  leading  from  Milan.  This  great  army  of  sup- 
pliants carried  crosses  in  their  hands  as  their  only 
weapon  of  defense,  the  simple  armor  of  penitence.  In 
their  midst  was  the  sacred  '^  carroccio,''  the  symbolic 
car  of  state,  on  whose  lofty  mast  floated  the  broad 
standard  of  the  city  and  territory  of  Milan,  surrounded 
by  a  moving  forest  of  inferior  ensigns,  drooping  as 
boughs  bend  before  the  hard  breathing  of  an  adverse 
gale.  As  soon  as  they  reached  the  imperial  presence, 
the  mast  that  surmounted  the  '^carroccw'  bowed,  as 
of  its  own  accord,  before  the  throne :  and  then  one  of 
the  consuls  in  most  moving  words  pleaded  for  mercy 
toward  his  country.  The  whole  multitude  of  starving 
penitents  threw  themselves  on  their  knees,  and  raised 
the  cry,  "  Misericordia !  Perdono!"  One  of  Frederic's 
court  seized  a  cross  from  the  trembling  hand  of  a  sup- 
pliant, and  on  his  knees  cried  "Barmherzigkeit!" 
("Mercy !")  The  whole  array  of  courtiers  lost  the  dig- 
nity of  their  stately  self-command,  and  wept.  Hard 
old  generals  forgot  their  own  wrong-doings,  and  wiped 
their  weather-worn  cheeks  with  their  mailed  hands, 
and  begged  for  " Gnade !  Mitleid!"  ("Grace!  Com- 
passion!") in  voices  that  scarce  knew  how  to  articulate 
so  strange 'words.  Frederic  had  not  permitted  his 
empress  to  be  present  on  this  proving  occasion ;  but 
the  Milanese,  seeing  from  a  distance  the  windows  of 
her  apartments,  in  a  paroxysm  of  anguish  flung  their 


94  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

crosses  toward  her,  that  this  shower  of  silent  prayers 
might  plead  for  them.  But  not  a  single  line  relaxed 
from  its  fixed  tension  on  the  face  of  the  Barbarossa. 
"Let  them  take  the  oath  of  fidelity;"  and  they  took 
the  oath  of  fidelity.  "Let  them  leave  with  me  four 
hundred  hostages,  and  then  let  them  retrace  their 
steps  to  Milan.  I  remove  from  them  the  ban  of  the 
empire."  This  sounded  well,  as  far  as  it  went,  but 
nothing  in  the  words  revealed  the  future  fate  of  Milan. 
Then  came  the  order  that  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  should  leave  the  beautiful  city.  Every  one 
obeyed  this  mysterious  command.  Some  of  the  in- 
habitants moved  away  to  the  neighboring  cities ;  many 
lingered,  with  misgiving  hearts,  on  the  outside  of  the 
walls,  to  await  the  emperor's  approach,  and  by  their 
pitiful  case  to  seek  once  more  to  move  the  Swabian's 
heart.  At  last  he  came;  it  was  the  twenty-fifth  of 
March :  and  from  the  head  of  his  conquering  army  he 
pronounced  the  words:  "Baze  the  City  of  Milan  to  its 
very  foundations;  strew  salt  over  the  flattened  soil; 
and  let  the  Milanese  name  be  effaced  from  among  the 
names  of  living  peoples !"  It  was  done.  Not  only  did 
the  German  soldiers  labor  hard  at  the  work  of  demoli- 
tion, but  the  six  divisions  of  the  noble  city  were  in- 
trusted to  the  personal  care  of  six  neighboring  States, 
w^hose  heart  some  old  feud,  some  hidden  jealousy,  some 
embalmed  injury,  had  prepared  for  the  true  Italian 
luxury  of  revenge.  But  the  salt  which  was  sown  over 
the  level  plain  became  the  symbol  of  a  fresh  covenant, 
and  from  the  sepulcher  of  old  Milan  sprang  not  only  a 
new  city,  of  rare  beauty  and  power,  but  also  that  most 
formidable   confederacy,  known   by  the  name  of  the 


RIVAL    POPES.  95 

Lombard  League,  which  in  its  turn  coerced  even  Fred- 
eric Barbarossa  himself. 

Frederic's  passion  for  political  knight-errantry  found 
him^much  to  do  in  his  own  Northern  empire,  as  well 
as  among  his  fair  fiefs  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  Alpine 
wall.  The  half-reclaimed  Bohemians  fell  into  muti- 
nous disorders,  and  had  to  be  suppressed.  The  Poles 
thought  to  try  their  strength,  and  the  Poles  were  con- 
vinced that  it  was  no  trifling  matter  to  provoke  the 
indignation  of  so  stern  and  intrepid  a  hero  as  the  Bar- 
barossa. In  the  mean  time,  in  the  midst  of  the  pro- 
tracted struggle  with  the  Milanese  and  the  other  rest- 
less republics  of  Northern  Italy,  and  a  considerable 
time  before  the  City  of  Milan  had  fallen,  the  imperious 
occupant  of  the  papal  chair,  the  English  Adrian,  had 
died.  There  were  two  aspirants  to  the  supreme  dig- 
nity, who  divided  the  suffrages  of  the  cardinals  in  con- 
clave assembled.  Neithei*  faction  would  yield — neither 
would  accept  the  other's  pope;  and  consequently  each 
proclaimed  its  own  spiritual  favorite  to  the  waiting 
church.  This  was  a  bewildering  position  for  her  faith- 
ful sons.  There  was  Alexander  III.,  supported  by  the 
larger  body  of  cardinals;  there  was  Victor  III.,  whom 
Frederic  took  under  his  especial  protection,  and  who 
consequently  had  all  Germany  and  half  of  Italy  among 
his  clientage.  The  Church  of  Rome  has  enrolled  the 
former  in  her  long  list  of  legitimate  popes,  and  has  de- 
nounced the  favorite  of  Frederic  as  an  anti-pope  and 
a  schismatic.  In  this  awkward  position  of  affairs,  the 
rough  foster-father  of  the  schismatic  pope  thought  it 
advisable  to  call  a  council  on  his  own  secular  authority, 
to  meet  at  his  City  of  Pavia;  and  he  summoned  the 


96  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

rivals  to  appear  before  his  throne,  in  order  that  he,  as 
Protector  of  the  Church,  might  decide  upon  their  com- 
parative merits.  Alexander,  the  legitimist,  had  not 
found  the  chair  as  softly  cushioned  as  he  had  antici- 
pated. His  rival,  Victor,  had  caught  him  and  shut 
him  up,  without  allowing  him  time  to  recline  at  his 
ease,  at  all.  And  though  his  friends  had  rescued  him 
from  captivity,  he  could  not  believe  himself  to  be  safe 
in  the  metropolis  of  his  ecclesiastical  empire;  there- 
fore the  vagrant  Alexander  wandered  from  city  to  city, 
in  sore  need  of  a  home.  But  when  he  found  himself 
summoned  to  appear  before  the  secular  head  of  the 
empire,  the  old  ^'esprit  de  corps'"  sprang  up  in  a 
moment,  and  he  haughtily  replied,  that  the  legitimate 
successor  of  St.  Peter  was  neither  subject  to  kings  nor 
councils.  Victor  III.,  conscious  that  he  stood  on  more 
equivocal  ground,  presented  himself  at  the  council  of 
Pavia ;  and  so  far  conciliated  Frederic  and  the  bishops 
who  ranged  themselves  on  his  side,  that  his  election 
was  proclaimed  by  them  to  be  valid,  that  all  other 
election  was  superseded,  and  that  to  Victor  III.  was 
undoubtedly  due  the.  reverent  obedience  of  Christen- 
dom. And  then  Victor,  together  with  the  irregular 
council  of  Pavia,  having  manufactured  some  mimic 
thunders  in  their  own  private  laboratory,  launched  the 
thunderbolt  of  excommunication  against  him  who  un- 
righteously called  himself  Pope  Alexander  III.  This 
explosive  conduct  was  too  much  for  the  patience  of  the 
legitimist;  and  he  forthwith  directed  a  tremendous 
bolt,  emanating  from  the  true  papal  workshop,  against 
the  head  of  the  profane  German  emperor,  while  he 
released  all  Frederic's  subjects  from  the  oath  of  fidelity 


THE   COST   OF   WAR.  97 

to  their  sovereign.  Thus  did  pope  and  anti-pope 
bandy  excommunications  from  one  to  the  other,  to  the 
great  scandal  of  the  church  at  large. 

In  such  conflicts  as  these,  both  spiritual  and  tempo- 
ral, was  passed  the  greater  portion  of  Frederic's  long 
reign.  And  now  the  year  1176  was  come.  Twenty- 
two  years  before  this  date  had  the  German  monarch 
first  directed  the  descent  of  his  Northern  legions  upon 
the  glowing  plains  of  the  Milanese  territory.  Seven 
formidable  armies,  gathered  from  the  depths  of  his 
German  pine  forests,  or  drawn  by  bugle-call  from 
those  battlemented  castles  which  grew  out  of  the 
crevices  of  rocky  promontories  overhanging  the  wind- 
ing Rhine  or  the  placid  Moselle,  had  been  lavished 
upon  his  Italian  wars.  Half  a  million  of  Northern 
soldiers  had  been  expended.  A  river  of  life-blood 
had  flowed.  And  for  what  end  this  precious  expendi- 
ture? these  great  loans  of  life  which  he  had  raised? 
these  taxes  and  imposts  paid  in  human  souls,  which 
had  flowed  freely  into  his  treasury  whenever  he  be- 
thought him  to  punish  the  insolence  of  a  city,  or  to 
bridle  the  pride  of  a  pope  ?  Frederic  Barbarossa  was 
made  of  firm  materials,  which  might  have  been  molded 
into  a  magnificent  man,  into  a  veritable  hero.  But 
his  life  had  received  at  the  outset  a  wrong  dedication. 
True,  he  had  placed  before  his  eyes  some  grand  ideas 
of  natural  justice,  and  of  abstract  truth  and  right,  and 
he  unswervingly  sought  to  follow  the  moral  rules  which 
he  had  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  code.  But  the  Gos- 
pel's great  law  of  love  was  to  him  unknown.  Mercy 
never  wiped  out  a  sentence  which  justice  had  written ; 
and  Frederic  Barbarossa,  with  his  matchless  intrepidity, 

9 


98  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

his  constancy  under  misfortune,  and  his  grand  desire 
to  initiate  a  new  reign  of  order  upon  a  world  of 
wrongs,  by  first  making  a  tabula  rasa  of  society, 
would  have  made  a  fine  demi-god  for  a  pagan  world, 
but  made  a  very  sorry  Christian  hero.  Perhaps  it 
was  but  that  faulty  presentation  of  Christianity  which 
he  saw  before  him  in  the  Romish  church,  his  false 
teachers,  his  false  code  of  laws,  which  made  of  Fred- 
eric Barbarossa  a  splendid  failure. 

And  now,  in  the  year  1176,  when  he  was  fifty-five 
years  of  age,  a  new  experience  opens  upon  the  Barba- 
rossa. He  was  utterly  defeated  but  a  few  miles  distant 
from  the  spot  where  he  had  first  reaped  his  great  har- 
vest of  ■  successes,  and  by  the  very  Milanese  people 
whom  he  had  set  himself  to  chastise  into  a  proper  sense 
of  justice  and  right.  This  defeat  was  the  bitter  fruit 
of  the  Lombard  League;  and  the  Lombard  League  had 
sprung  up  from  that  field  of  salt  where  once  had  stood 
the  fair  City  of  Milan.  There  is  something  singu- 
larly retributive  in  the  story,  and  its  teaching  is  easily 
understood.  Thrown  from  his  horse,  in  the  thick  of 
the  slain ;  his  imperial  standard  taken ;  his  body  sought 
eagerly  among  the  dead;  his  empress  wrapped  in  wid- 
ow's weeds  because  of  his  supposed  death ;  abandoned 
by  his  army,  which  was  flying  in  frantic  disorder 
through  the  savage  passes  of  the  Alps — such  was  the 
result  of  the  lost  battle  of  Lignano!  At  last,  alone, 
humbled  but  not  spirit-broken,  Frederic  walked  into 
the  City  of  Pa  via,  days  after  his  presumed  death;  and 
Pavia  was  the  sole  city  of  Lombardy  which  had 
remained  faithful  to  its  lord.  It  would  seem  that  anti- 
popes  lived  no  longer  than  popes ;  for  Frederic's  client, 


EXCO]!OIUNICATION.  99 

Victor  III.,  had  been  already  succeeded  by  a  Pas- 
cal III.,  who  was  elected  by  the  same  interest;  and  he 
again  had  made  room  by  his  death  for  a  certain  Calix- 
tus  III.  Thus  had  Frederic  sought  to  perpetuate  the 
schism,  very  possibly  from  a  half-enlightened  percep- 
tion of  the  growing  preponderance  of  Rome,  and  from 
a  desire  to  oppose  some  check  to  this  great  evil  of  the 
Christian  world.  But  he  had  not  the  power,  perhaps 
not  the  skill,  to  work  his  opposition  pope  in  such 
wise  as  to  conquer  Rome  with  her  own  weapons;  and 
he  had,  by  his  contumacious  conduct,  again  brought 
down  upon  his  own  defenseless  head  the  withering 
excommunications  and  terrible  curses  of  the  papacy. 
They  were  very  real  things,  temporally  if  not  spirit- 
ually— those  fearful  denunciations — not  by  any  means 
to  be  despised  even  by  the  proudest  of  unbelievers,  or 
the  most  scriptural  of  believers.  All  subjects  were 
released  from  the  bonds  of  duty  and  from  the  oaths  of 
allegiance  to  a  prince  who  was  thus  outlawed  from 
Christian  society  and  from  civil  compacts.  No  terms 
should  be  kept,  no  service  rendered  to  the  alien. 
Power  melted  away ;  his  right  hand  fell  as  if  paralyzed 
by  his  side;  the  meanest  criminal  in  his  realm  might 
point  at  him  the  unrebuked  finger  of  scorn ;  the  fiercest 
rebel  could  defy  his  laws.  He  moved  about,  alone  in 
the  crowd,  and  men  avoided  him  as  they  would  shun 
the  pestilence.  He  was  marked  by  a  stain  upon  his 
brow  which  the  waters  of  no  "Abana  and  Pharpar"  in 
his  broad  realm  could  wash  out,  which  no  diamonds  on 
his  coronet  could  conceal.  It  was  of  no  avail  to  show 
that  the  burning  brand  had  not  even  scarred  the 
smoothness  of  the  unconscious  brows;  that  the  hand 


100  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

could  grasp  a  sword  or  wield  a  scepter  as  well  as  ever; 
that  the  priestly  "anathema  maranatha"  had  found  no 
avenue  wherehj  it  could  reach  the  soul,  or  stop  one 
natural  beat  of  the  unscathed  heart,  which  was  still  at 
liberty  to  hold  communion  through  the  one  Mediator, 
by  the  one  Spirit,  with  the  one  God  and  Father  of 
all !  This  was  indeed  much !  It  was  everything  spir- 
itually, but  not  all  temporally;  for  the  monarch  who 
had  this  taint  upon  him  might  as  well  have  been  a  beg- 
gar, as  respects  all  power  to  exact  the  conventional 
rights  of  his  position.  And  such  was  now  the  lofty 
Frederic  Barbarossa!  It  has  been  seen  how  his  own 
army  melted  away  from  his  side  on  the  plain  of  Lig- 
nano;  and  his  nearest  friends  believed  that  they  saw, 
in  his  misfortunes  and  their  own,  the  force  of  a  divine 
punishment.  Nothing  remained  to  the  lonely  emperor 
of  the  West  but  submission  and  peace.  And  so  Fred- 
eric dispatched  to  the  self-complacent  Pope  Alexander, 
the  three  archbishops — of  Worms,  of  Magdeburg,  and 
of  Mayence.  These  envoys  were  received  in  full  con- 
sistory. But  Alexander,  conscious  to  the  full  that  he 
occupied  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  church  and  of  the 
world,  and  aware  of  the  advantages  of  his  position, 
carried  himself  in  most  lofty  guise.  When  he  discov- 
ered, however,  in  secret  conference,  that  the  humbled 
emperor  had  no  new  privileges  to  claim,  no  stipulations 
to  make,  but  simply  that  he  entreated  that  the  inter- 
dict should  be  removed,  (not  only  from  himself,  but  also 
from  such  prelates  as  had  at  first  espoused  his  cause,) 
the  road  to  reconciliation  became  clearer.  On  the 
one  hand,  Frederic  must  renounce  the  line  of  anti- 
popes   whom    his   fiat   had   created,    and    abjure   the 


A   LEGEND.  101 

schism  which  he  had  introduced  into  the  church;  on 
the  other,  that  invisible  cloud  which  was  blighting  the 
empire  should  be  "  spirited  away"  beyond  the  horizon. 
These  important  preliminaries  settled,  a  congress  was 
agreed  upon,  where  all  other  difficulties  were  to  be 
arranged. 

Though  the  pope  was  exposed  to  the  buffetings  of  a 
rude  storm,  on  his  way  to  Venice  to  keep  tryst  with 
the  emp'eror,  yet  neither  was  his  pride  chastened,  nor 
were  his  pretensions  lowered.  He  was  on  board  a 
Sicilian  galley  together  with  the  embassadors  whom 
the  king  of  Sicily  was  dispatching  to  the  congress; 
and  they  were  all  flung  upon  the  Dalmatian  coast,  at 
Zara,  a  little  sea-port,  which  had  never  before  been 
blessed  with  the  presence  of  a  pope.  A  legend  has 
hence  sprung  up,  to  the  effect  that  his  holiness,  finding 
himself  "flotsam  or  jetsam,"  "waif  or  straif,"  and  in 
peril  of  being  claimed  by  "the  lord  of  the  manor," 
did  work  in  disguise  as  a  gardener,  or  some  said  as  a 
scullion,  and  others  again  as  a  very  humble  priest. 
The  glowing  pencils  of  the  Venetian  school  of  art 
have  largely  availed  themselves  of  this  dramatic  story ; 
and  the  magnificent  council-chamber  of  the  republic  is 
living  with  the  storied  picture  of  how  the  Doge  Ziani 
and  the  Venetian  senate  discovered  the  masquerading 
pope,  and  carried  him  off  in  reverent  triumph.  At 
length  the  congress  was  opened,  in  the  middle  of  May 
in  this  same  year  1177,  in  that  beautiful  city  of  the 
sea,  moored  amid  the  soft  ripple  of  the  waves,  which 
the  traveler  still  looks  upon  with  wondering  delight, 
and  doubtfully  asks,  "Is  this  a  dream?"  Thither 
came,  in  galleys  and  light  barges  from  the  mainland, 

9* 


102  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

the  German  princes  and  the  Lombard  prelates,  the 
representatives  of  cities  and  the  embassadors  of  kings. 
There  were  long  pleadings  on  either  part;  difficulties 
innumerable  to  be  smoothed;  niceties  of  language  to 
be  considered,  and  delicacies  of  feeling  to  be  touched 
with  a  tender  hand.  So  slowly  did  matters  proceed, 
that  Frederic,  who  had  been  awaiting  the  march  of 
events  at  a  summer  palace  at  Ravenna,  asked  the 
pope's  permission  to  draw  nearer  to  the  scene  of 
diplomatic  complications.  Negotiations  mended  their 
pace  as  soon  as  the  firm  foot  of  the  emperor  was 
planted  even  upon  the  pavement  of  Chiozza,  fifteen 
miles  distant  from  the  wedded  queen  of  the  Adriatic ; 
and  in  the  Ides  of  July,  the  Count  Henry  of  Dessau, 
on  the  part  of  Frederic  and  in  his  name,  swore  a  per- 
petual peace  with  the  church,  a  truce  of  six  years  with 
the  Lombard  cities,  and  a  peace  of  fifteen  years  with 
the  Norman  King  of  Sicily.  And  then  the  imperious 
pontifi"  vouchsafed  to  give  a  signal  that  the  penitent 
might  appear  in  his  presence.  Six  Venetian  galleys 
were  dispatched  to  Chiozza,  to  bring  the  emperor  to 
the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark.  In  the  vestibule  of  the 
resplendent  orient  temple  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
piazza,  upon  a  pavement  of  precious  stones,  stood 
Pope  Alexander  III.,  surrounded  by  the  Sicilian 
embassadors,  the  representatives  of  the  Lombard 
cities,  and  his  own  spiritual  court.  Presently-  Frederic 
ascended  the  landing-steps,  and  advanced,  conducted 
by  the  Doge  Sebastiano  Ziani,  the  patriarch,  the  clergy, 
and  the  people  of  Venice.  His  step  was  still  stately, 
and  his  figure  unbowed  by  years  or  troubles.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  the  haughty  head  of  his  church,  he 


THE   RECONCILIATION.  103 

threw  away  his  royal  mantle,  prostrated  himself  on 
the  pavement,  and  kissed  the  feet  of  the  pontiff.  It 
is  generally  believed  that  the  insolent  churchman  then 
placed  his  foot  upon  the  neck  of  the  prostrate  Frederic, 
at  the  same  time  pronouncing  audibly  the  words  of  the 
psalm,  "  Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  the  adder !" 
And  then  he  bestowed  upon  the  imperial  penitent  the 
kiss  of  peace,  and  signified  that  he  delivered  him  body 
and  soul  from  the  awful  sentence  of  excommunica- 
tion that  rested  upon  him,  that  he  and  his  people  were 
restored  to  spiritual  privileges  and  temporal  rights, 
and  that  they  were  reconciled,  one  to  the  other — the 
father  to  the  son,  the  son  to  the  father.  A  lozenge  of 
red  marble,  let  into  the  pavement  of  St.  Mark's,  shows 
the  identical  spot  where  the  proud  Barbarossa  may  be 
said  to  have  sufi*ered  martyrdom.  Pope  and  kaiser 
then  together  passed  into  the  dimly-lighted  interior  of 
the  gorgeous  temple,  while  a  triumphant  burst  of  voices 
chanted  a  glad  "Te  Deum."  But  Frederic's  torture 
was  not  yet  over.  He  must  hold  the  stirrup  for  his 
master,  while  he  leisurely  settled  himself  upon  his 
horse  before  the  portico  of  St.  Mark.  And  then 
Frederic  Barbarossa  bade  adieu  to  the  pontiff  and  to 
the  fair  city  of  his  humiliation,  then  traversing  Italy 
to  Genoa,  regained  his  own  German  forests  and  castles 
by  the  pass  of  Mont  Cenis. 

When  the  six  years'  truce  with  the  Lombard  cities 
drew  near  to  its  end,  it  was  made  the  basis  of  the 
famous  treaty  of  Constance,  which  was  added  to  the 
body  of  Roman  law,  and  whose  provisions  long  con- 
tinued to  be  the  foundation  of  Italian  rights.  Thus 
did  Frederic's  great  struggle  with  the  Italian  republics 


104  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

and  with  the  church  of  Rome  terminate  in  lost  battles 
with  each  opponent,  after  a  life-long  campaign.  Once 
more  did  Frederic  Barbarossa  descend  into  Italy,  when 
he  came  in  peace  and  in  prosperity  to  negotiate  a  mar- 
riage between  his  son  Henry  and  Constance,  the  nearest 
heir  of  the  Norman  King  of  the  Two  Sicihes.  But 
the  shadows  of  evening  were  now  gathering  thick 
around  the  aged  emperor  of  the  West. 

A  great  grief  had  at  this  time  newly  fallen  upon 
Christendom,  and  Christian  men  were  crossing  them- 
selves in  sore  dismay.  The  great  news  that  Saladin 
had  taken  Jerusalem,  and  that  the  Christian  king,  Gui 
de  Lusignan,  was  a  prisoner  in  his  hands,  fell  like  a 
thunderbolt  upon  the  kingdoms  of  the  West.  They 
had  placed  a  fellow-believer  with  his  garrison  of  Chris- 
tian forces  on  the  Mount  of  the  Holy  City,  on  the 
very  outworks  of  Christendom,  and-  forgetting  him 
while  they  quarreled  every  man  with  his  neighbor  at 
home,  they  had  left  him  alone  to  his  fate.  And  now 
they  heard  that  a  terrible  conqueror  had  arisen,  who 
had  swept  onward  in  an  unbroken  career  of  victory; 
that,  with  the  exception  of  Tyre,  Antioch,  and  Trip- 
oli, the  Holy  Land  lay  prostrate  beneath  his  feet,  and 
that  even  the  Holy  Sepulcher  was  now  polluted  by  the 
presence  of  the  Moslem.  A  passionate  outburst  of 
indignant  sorrow  sounded  throughout  the  West.  As 
if  with  one  accord,  the  peoples  of  Europe  lifted  up 
their  voice  and  wept.  Rarely,  if  ever  beside,  has  such 
oneness  of  feeling  pervaded  a  whole  continent;  for 
they  thought  they  had  been  faithless  to  their  high 
charge  as  sentinels  upon  the  Holy  Mount,  as  watchers 
beside  the  tomb.  It  was  now  the  year  1188,  and  Frederic 


BOUND   FOR   PALESTINE.  105 

Barbarossa  sat  in  Diet  at  Mentz,  in  order  to  advise 
with  the  States  of  the  empire,  and  with  the  rulers  of 
Europe  at  large,  about  the  way  in  which  this  shame 
was  to  be  wiped  out.  There  was  at  this  time  a  great 
shaking  of  hands  throughout  Europe,  and  an  eager 
exchange  of  the  kiss  of  peace;  because  all  the  quar- 
relers felt  that  they  must  forgive  and  forget  at  home, 
in  order  to  hold  hands  abroad  for  mutual  support  on 
the  burning  strand  of  the  East.  England  and  France 
signed  a  peace,  and  took  vows  to  pass  into  Palestine; 
Venice  and  the  King  of  Hungary  exchanged  the  sym- 
bols of  reconciliation  over  their  Dalmatian  dispute; 
and  two  message-bearers  from  Clement  III.,  who  was 
then  tenant,  for  a  few  months,  of  the  papal  chair, 
awakened  such  profound  emotion  in  the  breast  of  the 
old  emperor  himself,  that  he  arose  and  said,  "/  take 
the  cross!"  This  was  a  joyful  word  for  Europe.  He 
was  not  far  from  seventy  years  of  age;  but  his  in- 
trepid bravery  was  so  proven,  his  faithfulness  to  his 
engagements  so  trustworthy,  his  constancy  under  mis- 
fortune so  remarkable,  and  his  uprightness  (according 
to  his  own  hard,  unbending  standard  of  truth  and  jus- 
tice) so  distinguished,  that  all  men  felt,  if  Frederic 
Barbarossa  took  the  cross  and  went  on  armed  pilgrim- 
age, there  was  indeed  hope  of  rescuing  the  shrine  of 
their  adoring  reverence  from  the  hold  of  the  Misbe- 
liever. "The  grand  old  Kaiser  Barbarossa  makes 
ready  for  Palestine!"  This  was  the  word  of  congratu- 
lation that  ran  through  6very  court,  every  camp,  every 
market-place  and  household  gathering  in  the  land. 
"Who  is  the  craven  that  will  'bide  at  home  if  the  old 
kaiser  goes?"      These   were   the   next   words.     The 


106  FREDERIC    BARBAROSSA. 

kaiser's  son,  Frederic,  and  the  most  brilliant  of  his 
nobles,  took  the  cross  forthwith.  "Ratisbon  is  the 
rendezvous,"  was  signaled  over  the  land;  and  such 
vast  crowds  flocked  to  his  standard,  that  Frederic  Bar- 
barossa  was  obliged  to  decree  that  no  individual  should 
attempt  to  go  on  crusade  who  had  not  three  marks  of 
silver  in  his  wallet.  This  regulation  was  devised  in 
order  to  strain  off  all  indigent  adventurers  from  the 
perilous  enterprise.  And  yet,  after  the  general  sifting 
which  was  caused  by  this  decree,  150,000  well-appointed 
men  kept  muster  near  Ratisbon.  The  cavalry  alone 
formed  a  splendid  body  of  30,000  men.  And  now  the 
old  emperor,  at  the  head  of  his  enthusiastic  army, 
crossed  Hungary  and  Bulgaria,  and  wintered  at  Adri- 
anople,  in  order  to  enter  upon  his  great  struggle  with 
the  first  favoring  promise  of  spring.  Gallipoli  was 
reached  in  the  month  of  March,  1190,  while  Philip 
Augustus  of  France  and  our  own  lion-hearted  king  took 
the  way  of  the  sea.  But  the  Barbarossa  had  already 
come  to  blows  with  the  Greek  emperor,  Isaac  Angelus, 
whom  the  skillful  Saladin  had  found  means  to  detach 
from  the  general  interests  of  the  Crusaders.  Frederic, 
as  might  be  divined,  made  brief  work  with  the  double- 
minded  Isaac  Angelus,  beat  his  Greeks,  who  had 
thought  to  take  him  by  surprise,  and  presently  had 
the  Greek  emperor  at  his  feet  begging  for  peace.  But 
the  terror  of  his  name  soon  spread  from  Greek  to 
Moslem;  and  scarcely  had  he  passed  the  Hellespont 
when  he  subdued  the  Sultan  of  Iconium,  who  attempted 
to  stem  his  course,  burned  his  capital,  crossed  over  the 
Taurus  Mountains,  and  reached  the  Armenian  plains, 
where  he  was  joyfully  hailed  by  Christians  and  friends. 


MEMORIES   OF   TARSUS.  107 

The  old  emperor  was  now  not  far  from  Tarsus  on  the 
cold  River  Cjdnus.  When  Cyrus  lived,  the  classic 
Cydnus  ran  through  the  magnificent  City  of  Tarsus; 
but  now  it  is  about  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  walls. 
Memories,  classic,  romantic,  and  scriptural,  still  loiter 
about  the  place;  memories  of  Sardanapalus,  king  of 
Assyria;  of  Julius  Caesar,  whose  tarriance  for  awhile 
gave  to  the  city  the  name  of  Juliopolis;  of  Mark  An- 
tony and  his  first  interview  with  the  syren  queen,  Cleo- 
patra; memories  of  Haroun-al-Raschid  and  his  wall, 
and  of  Bajazet  with  his  castle,  whose  ruins  still  sur- 
vive; but,  above  all,  memories  of  a  greater  than  any 
of  these,  the  mighty  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  "Saul 
of  Tarsus,"  "a  citizen  of  no  mean  city."  In  the 
burial-ground  of  a  small  church,  which  bears  evidences 
of  high  antiquity,  stands  an  ancestral  tree,  which  tra- 
dition claims  to  have  been  planted  by  St.  Paul's  own 
hands.  It  was  at  some  spot  in  this  memorable  neigh- 
borhood, though  the  exact  spot  may  not  now  be  known, 
that  the  aged  emperor,  Frederic  Barbarossa,  wearied 
with  long  marchings  under  an  Eastern  sun,  thought  to 
renew  his  strength  by  the  luxury  of  a  bathe  in  the 
Cydnus.  Another  emperor  before  him  had  sought  the 
like  refreshment  in  the  same  stream,  and  so  intense 
was  the  chill  of  this  river  that  it  had  well-nigh  cost 
him  his  life.  Frederic  took  no  warning,  and,  expert 
swimmer  as  he  knew  himself  to  be,  he  plunged  boldly 
into  the  stream.  It  was  icy  cold;  the  chill  struck  to 
'the  heart  of  the  brave  old  man;  apoplexy  instantly 
followed,  and  he  died  there  upon  the  shore  of  the  his- 
toric river — to  the  great  joy  of  the  Moslem,  to  the 
great  grief  of  Europe,  to  the  sorrowful  regret  even  of 


108  FREDERIC   BARBAROSSA. 

those  Lombard  cities,  which  had  proved  the  weight  of 
his  hand  in  war,  but  which  now  knew  the  warmth  of  its 
grasp  in  peace. 

If  it  be  allowable  to  wind  up  "an  owre  true  tale"  of 
history  with  a  scrap  of  a  romantic  legend,  there  is 
something  more  to  be  told.  They  say  in  Germany  of 
their  grand  old  Kaiser  Barbarossa  as  the  Britons  said 
of  their  Arthur,  as  they  fondly  said  of  their  Alfred, 
and  as  an  imaginative  people  has  often  said  of  a  hero 
whom  they  could  ill  spare,  "He  will  come  again;  he  is 
not  dead,  but  awaiting  the  hour  of  need!"  They  say 
that  a  German  peasant,  once  wandering  into  a  long 
and  winding  cavern  in  the  Salzburg  Hills,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  old  monarch  in  the  midst  of  his  trance 
of  ages.  He  was  sitting  at  a  stone  table,  his  white 
beard  flowing  on  the  ground,  like  the  unraveled  threads 
of  a  silvery  cataract — they  had  passed  through  the 
stony  table  on  which  he  leaned.  But  slowly  raising 
his  head,  he  asked  the  man  the  age  of  the  worJd  and 
the  number  of  the  century.  ^'Noch  nicht!''  and  he 
settled  himself  again  to  his  dream,  for  the  hour  had 
not  yet  struck. 


BROTHER  JOHN   OF  VICENZA. 


10 


BEOTHER   JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 


It  has  been  the  boast  of  politic  Rome  that  she  has 
allowed  space  within  her  borders  for  the  development 
of  individual  character,  and  for  the  impulses  of  per- 
sonal activity.  So  that  the  unity  in  the  grand  leading 
dogmas  remain  unbroken ;  so  that  the  concession  of 
submission  to  the  authority  of  the  church  be  made  by 
the  eccentric  enthusiast — ^his  course  may  be  as  erratic 
as  that  of  the  comet,  or  as  startling  as  the  flight  of  the 
meteor.  If  the  deferential  bow  to  the  representative 
of  St.  Peter  be  conceded,  the  new  impulse  may  spend 
itself  in  burrowing  like  a  mole  in  the  lonely  heart  of 
the  desert,  in  preaching  poverty  and  mortification  to 
weeping  multitudes,  or  in  piling  splendid  gifts  on  the 
altar  of  her  magnificent  worship.  The  breast  of  Hilde- 
brand,  the  monk  of  Clugni,  is  burning  with  the  vehe- 
ment fevers  of  ambition:  the  church  recognizes  the 
strength  that  lies  in  his  indomitable  will,  turns  his 
personal  aspirations  into  fervent  esprit  de  corps,  and 
confides  her  present  and  future  interests  to  the  strong 
hand  of  her  champion  in  the  person  of  Gregory  VII. 
A  young  enthusiast,  amid  the  purple  hills  of  TJmbria, 
renounces  the  fascinations  of  worldly  wealth,  and  vows 
the  vow  of  eternal  poverty:  the  Romish  church  will 
not  suffer  the  young  ascetic  to  lead  off  a  fresh  sect  into 

(111) 


112  BROTHER    JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

the  wilderness,  but  she  places  her  own  consecrated 
banner  in  his  eager  hand,  and  bids  him  preach  repent- 
ance and  self-denial  to  a  breathless  multitude,  as  her 
own  well-beloved  "St.  Francis  of  Assisi."  Thus  it 
has  been  all  through  the  long  chronicles  of  her  history. 
If  she  can  discover  in  any  child,  however  eccentric 
may  be  his  character,  the  one  saving  element  of  un- 
questioning obedience  to  her  rule,  she  forthwith  en- 
dows him  with  her  own  delegated  authority,  and  sends 
him  out  into  the  world  to  beat  up  for  raw  recruits  and 
to  enlist  undisciplined  volunteers.  Her  outlaws  have 
been  those  who  have  doubtfully  asked  to  see  her  own 
credentials,  or  who  have  dared  to  seek  out  for  them- 
selves the  principles  of  their  faith  in  the  revealed  Word 
of  God,  rather  than  in  the  decrees  of  councils  or  the 
edicts  of  popes. 

Amid  the  singular  groupings  which  these  irregular 
forces  of  the  Romish  church  present,  there  is  one  re- 
markable figure  with  which  the  English  eye  is  much 
less  familiar  than  the  force  of  its  outlines  and  the  bold- 
ness of  its  attitude  deserve.  In  order  to  obtain  a 
nearer  view  of  this  striking  object,  a  stand-point  may 
be  made  of  one  of  those  beautiful  hills  which  bound  the 
plain  that  spreads  in  glowing  luxuriance  around  the 
Lombard  City  of  Vicenza.  More  than  six  centuries 
of  past  time  must  be  counted  before  we  arrive  at 
the  right  era.  It  is  about  the  year  1233.  Wars  and 
rumors  of  wars  are  echoing  shrill  and  sharp  from  the 
whole  circuit  of  purple  mountains  which  melt  into  the 
clear  blue  of  the  horizon.  The  notes  of  preparation 
or  the  clamors  of  conflict  are  ringing  from  the  Euga- 
nean  hills  on  the  east  to  the  silvery  gray  mountains  of 


MUTTERINGS   OF   WAR.  113 

Friuli,  which  are  dying  off  into  the  distant  west.  The 
vine-clad  Yicentine  heights  take  up  the  wild  sounds 
which  are  flung  from  the  hills  of  the  Este;  and  the 
cordon  of  war  is  completed  by  the  reverberations  from 
the  retiring  Alps  of  the  north.  There  are  wars  which 
have  sprung  out  of  the  rivalship  between  the  Emperor 
Frederic  II.  and  Otho  IV.  There  are  the  burning 
jealousies  between  the  Lombard  cities  and  the  power- 
ful nobles  who  are  ever  watching  their  opportunities 
from  the  bastions  of  the  neighboring  castles.  There 
are  the  undying  feuds  among  the  great  lords  them- 
selves; and  there  are  the  fierce  struggles  between 
opposing  factions  within  the  fortified  towns,  forever 
hateful  and  hating  one  another.  There  are  the  heart- 
burnings created  by  the  withering  excommunication 
pronounced  against  Frederic  by  the  infuriate  pope, 
because,  arrested  in  his  course  by  sickness,  he  had  not 
set  forth  on  crusade  against  the  infidel  on  the  prede- 
termined day.  There  is  the  renewal  of  the  Lombard 
League  in  the  heart  of  all  these  disturbances;  and 
that  league  between  the  cities  is  taken  under  the  special 
protection  of  the  pope,  Gregory  IX.,  in  order  that  it 
may  be  worked  as  a  powerful  machine  against  the  con- 
tumacious emperor.  It  is  confusing  only  to  count  up 
these  various  distractions.  When  the  charmed  traveler 
now  visits  the  scene,  laughing  with  almost  tropical  luxu- 
riance, he  finds  it  difficult  to  believe  in  the  reign  of 
past  disorder.  The  roads  which  have  replaced  the  old 
Via  Emilia,  are  bordered  with  mulberry-trees  laced 
together  with  festooned  vines.  The  tulip-tree  hangs 
out  its  handsome  blossoms  over  the  way,  and  the  rich 
trumpet  flowers  of  the  crimson  bignonia  droop  over  the 

10* 


114  BROTHEK   JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

"walls  of  the  abounding  villas.  Nx)ble  avenues  of  plane- 
trees  point  the  way  to  off-lying  towns;  and  hedges  of 
rare  exotics  inclose  the  splendid  villas  with  which  Pal- 
ladio  enriched  his  native  city.  Within  the  city  itself 
many  magnificent  palaces  preserve  the  name  of  the 
same  skillful  architect ;  and  there,  too,  stand  the  twin 
pillars  that  Venice  loved  to  plant  in  every  city,  which 
"the  lion  of  St.  Mark"  had  once  struck  with  his  broad 
paw.  The  Bacchiglione,  which  washes  the  stately  old 
city,  is  one  of  the  few  Italian  rivers  that  run  clear  and 
sparkling  to  the  sun.  It  is  a  foamy,  petulent  stream, 
and  in  its  excited  moments  its  passion  is  uncontrollable. 
Now  look  again  through  the  windows  of  the  past, 
and  see  Yicenza  as  it  was  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
There  is  a  Dominican  monk  meditating  in  his  cell  on 
the  distractions  of  the  times  and  the  miseries  of  the 
people.  He  fancies  that  the  air  is  full  of  the  sobs  of 
the  suffering  and  the  wails  of  the  oppressed.  Would 
that  he  could  do  something  to  heal  the  wounds  of  the 
people!  But  what  is  one  against  a  multitude?  He 
would  be  but  as  a  pebble  in  the  bed  of  the  roaring 
Bacchiglione,  utterly  powerless  to  stem  its  furious 
course.  He  will  try  the  might  of  love :  the  strength 
that  lies  in  that  last  appeal.  Whether  they  will  hear, 
or  whether  they  will  forbear,  he  will  exhort  the  mad- 
dened factions  "to  love  as  brethren,  to  be  pitiful,  to 
be  courteous."  The  impulse  is  so  strong  upon  him, 
that  "Brother  John  of  Vicenza"  leaves  his  cell,  and 
goes  forth  into  the  cities  and  plains  of  Lombardy,  to 
bind  up  the  sores  of  the  bleeding  people.  He  has  no 
great  breadth  of  understanding ;  no  clear  appreciation 
of  gospel  truth ;  he  is  bound  to  his  church  by  the  usual 


THE   SEALED   FOUNTAIN    OF   ELOQUENCE.         115 

narrowing  bonds  of  subserviency,  and  can  only  see  one 
small  section  of  a  subject  at  a  time.  But  into  this  one 
division  of  the  truth  he  throws  the  whole  power  of  a 
fervent  nature.  The  fire  is  glowing  in  his  breast,  and 
his  lips  are  burning  to  speak.  He  begins  his  preaching 
at  Bologna.  The  passers-by  are  arrested  by  his  thrill- 
ing words.  A  crowd  of  citizens  gathers  round  him. 
There  is  an  earnestness  in  his  tone,  a  light  in  his  eye, 
an  abandonment  in  his  manner,  which  convince  the 
coolest  observer  that  "Brother  John"  is  at  least  sin- 
cere ;  and  an  earnest  sincerity  is  a  fruit-bearing  thing 
— it  dbes  not  remain  alone,  but  it  speedily  begets  the 
ready  answer  of  sympathy.  Let  an  eloquent  man 
firmly  believe  in  his  own  mission,  and  a  crowd  of  fellow- 
believers  will  soon  gather  about  him.  But  "Brother 
John"  had  never  suspected  that  within  him  lay,  hitherto 
sealed  up  in  silence,  a  fountain  of  eloquence  suflBcient 
to  flood  a  whole  country,  and  to  drown  all  opposition. 
From  this  mysterious  well  he  is  beginning  to  draw,  on 
this  eventful  day  of  the  year  1233,  in  the  ancient  City 
of  Bologna.  His  mouth  is  like  the  curved  lip  of  one 
of  those  marble  Italian  fountains,  over  whose  sculptured 
edge  leaps  the  live  stream  in  a  gush  of  freshness ;  or 
else,  in  obedience  to  the  changing  pulse  of  nature,  slips 
gently  over,  in  cool  and  noiseless  lapse.  The  stream 
is  leaping  like  a  torrent  now!  and  the  ardent  "Frate 
Giovanni"  is  carried  away  in  the  flood  of  his  own  mar- 
velous eloquenc^  The  rumor  that  a  great  preacher 
had  arisen,  and  was  forbidding  the  people  to  bite  and 
devour  one  another,  spreads  through  the  neighboring 
villages,  and  rings  along  the  purple  steeps  of  the 
Apennines.     The  peasants  leave  their  trellised  vines 


116  BROTHER  JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

and  their  mulberries,  and  hurry  into  Bologna.  There 
they  see  the  municipal  soldiers,  and  the  men-at-arms 
of  the  nobles,  hemming  the  preacher  round  with  a  living 
belt  of  eager  faces.  They  are  all  with  one  accord  en- 
rolling themselves  under  his  banner  of  love,  and  are 
ready  to  fulfill  his  every  commission,  even  at  the  pre- 
cious cost  of  all  their  cherished  revenges  and  life-long 
hatreds.  The  vast  crowd  sways  to  and  fro  at  his  will ; 
and  see,  here  come  the  magistrates  of  the  republic, 
bearing  the  statutes  of  the  city,  which  they  lay  at  his 
feet,  praying  that  "the  blessed  Brother  John  of  Yi- 
cenza"  will  remodel  them  in  accordance  with  "tile  new 
commandment,  that  they  should  love  one  another." 
He  boldly  strikes  oiit  of  the  statute-book  every  element 
which  he  thinks  may  serve  as  fuel  for  old  enmities  and 
new  rivalships. 

Bologna  is  pacified:  and  Brother  John  moves  on 
to  Padua — "Padova  la  Forte,"  as  the  Italians  love 
to  call  it,  though  already  deserving  the  loftier  name  of 
"the  learned,"  because  of  its  rising  university.  His 
name  and  his  fame  precede  him,  and  a  long  array  of 
municipal  authorities  advances  beyond  the  gates  of  the 
city  to  meet  him.  In  the  midst  of  the  procession 
appears  the  '' carroceio^''  a  sort  of  triumphal  car, 
which  symbolized  the  power  of  the  State  in  each  of  the 
Italian  republics  of  the  middle  ages.  The  car  stops ; 
the  magistrates  approach  the  poor  Dominican  monk, 
constrain  him  to  mount  the  almost  sacred  vehicle,  and 
the  peaceful  conqueror  enters  another  subject  city  in 
triumph.  Here  similar  crowds  press  around  him,  hang 
on  his  words,  lay  down  all  their  old  difi"erences  at  his 
feet,  whether  public  feuds  or  private  animosities,  and 


THE  CRUSHING  OUT  OF  REVENGE.      117 

eagerly  bring  forth  the  statutes,  that  he  might  wipe 
from  their  pages  all  that  could  offend.  As  he  had 
done  at  Bologna,  so  did  he  at  "Padua  the  Strong." 
So  did  he  also  at  Feltre,  at  Belluno,  and  at  Treviso. 

But,  besides  these  public  exhortations,  he  has  a 
series  of  private  conferences  to  hold  with  the  great 
lords,  who  are  watching  this  astounding  turn  in  the 
tide  of  affairs,  from  the  jealous  towers  of  their  fortified 
castles.  These  were  calls  of  no  very  safe  or  pleasant 
a  character;  but  the  bannered  hall  of  the  haughty 
marquis  or  of  the  fierce  count  is  the  same  to  "  Brother 
John"  as  the  council-chamber  of  the  republican  city. 
He  soon  has  his  plumed  and  mailed  hosts  at  his  feet : 
they  make  him  the  arbiter  of  their  hereditary  feuds 
and  their  personal  quarrels ;  and  the  simple  Dominican 
crushes  out  with  his  sandaled  foot  the  fiendish  life  of 
the  vendetta*  which  commonly  descends  as  a  cherished 
heir-loom  from  father  to  son.  The  same  extraordinary 
success  awaits  the  "Frate"  at  Verona,  proudly  standing 
on  its  rushing  River  Adige — "Verona  la  Degna,"  (" the 
worthy,")  according  to  the  fond  name  given  to  their 
city  by  its  people.  Even  in  this  year,  1233,  it  was  the 
old  city  of  Verona — for  there  were  Roman  remains,  a 
thousand  years  of  age,  standing  amid  the  hot  and  eager 
life  of  the  thoroughfares;  and  there  they  still  stand. 
The  great  family  of  La  Scala,  (or  Scaliger,)  which  was 
to  become  so  powerful  in  Verona  as  to  claim  for  them- 
selves a  broad  page  in  history,  had  already  struck  its 
root  for  at  least  two  hundred  years  in  the  soil;  and 


*  Vendetta,  revenge.     Practically  to  carry  out  this  principle  was 
looked  upon  as  a  family  duty. 


118  BROTHER   JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

we  must  suppose  that  some  of  the  rising  members  of 
this  remarkable  house  were  among  the  crowds  which 
came  to  lay  down  their  enmities  at  the  feet  of  the  elo- 
quent preacher.  The  same  extraordinary  scene  is  here 
enacted  as  in  the  sister  republics ;  and  the  Dominican 
monk  is  empowered  to  rescind  old  laws  and  to  make 
new  ones,  for  the  more  peaceable  government  of  the 
State.  Mantua  does  the  same;  so  does  Brescia;  and 
now  the  circle  of  his  mysterious  influence  is  completed, 
by  the  triumphant  establishment  of  "Brother  John's" 
power  in  his  own  City  of  Vicenza.  One  would  expect 
the  magic  ring  to  break  here,  if  anywhere:  but  no; 
Vicenza  is  his,  and  the  reign  of  love  is  established  all 
around  him.  The  reign  of  love?  How  long  will  it 
last?  But  we  must  not  anticipate  the  winding  up  of 
this  singular  history. 

Having  thus  finished  his  triumphant  progress,  the 
monk  John  convokes  a  solemn  assembly,  which  is  to 
meet  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  August  in  the  succeed- 
ing year,  three  miles  from  Verona,  where  spreads  the 
inviting  plain  of  Paquara,  on  the  luxuriant  borders  of 
the  River  Adige.  Factions  and  feuds  sleep  all  through 
the  winter ;  surely  they  will  awake  under  the  stimulat- 
ing heats  of  summer  ?  No !  they  are  slumbering  still ! 
The  people  are  loving  like  brethren,  and  only  rouse  up 
to  keep  the  grand  jubilee  of  Paquara!  The  popula-' 
tions  of  some  twenty  rival  States  pour  out  to  keep  the 
tryst  of  reconciliation.  Verona,  Mantua,  Padua,  Bres- 
cia, and  John's  own  Vicenza,  are  there;  Venice  is 
represented;  Ferrara,  Reggio,  Modena,  Treviso,  Par- 
ma, Bologna,  all  have  their  numerous  delegates.  The 
patriarch  of  Aquileia  is  present,  and  so  are  the  bish- 


THE  PULPIT  ON  THE  FIELD  OF  PAQUARA. 

"And  now  begins  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  scenes  in  all  history.  A  contemporary 
historian  states  that  more  than  400,000  people  were  gathered  together  on  the  plain."— 
Page  118. 


THE    REIGN   OF   LOVE.  119 

ops  of  nine  of  the  leading  cities,  the  little  republics 
sending  their  sacred  carroccios  to  the  rendezvous,  in 
order  to  give  full  official  significance  to  the  acts  of  the 
assembly.  More  than  this;  here  come  the  haughty 
lords  of  Romano  and  the  Marquis  of  Este,  riding  at 
the  head  of  their  trained  vassals,  and  spreading  their 
proud  standards  to  the  breeze.  A  contemporary  histo- 
rian, Parisio  di  Cereta,  states  that  more  than  400,000 
people  were  gathered  together  on  the  plain ;  but  Tira- 
boschi,  as  quoted  by  Sismondi,  considerably  reduces 
the  number.  And  now  begins  one  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary scenes  in  all  history,  the  details  of  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  credit,  were  it  not  for  the  respectabil- 
ity of  the  various  Italian  historians  who  have  preserved 
the  records  of  the  day.  The  monk  of  Vicenza  had 
erected  a  lofty  pulpit  in  the  midst  of  the  plain;  from 
thence  his  clear  ringing  voice,  pitched  with  perfect 
skill,  so  as  to  command  as  wide  a  circle  of  hearers  as 
possible,  appears  to  penetrate  almost  the  whole  of  this 
vast  host.  His  text  is  preserved,  and  it  is  this:  "Peace 
I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you."  His 
eloquence  on  this  the  crowning  day  of  his  life  is  as  liv- 
ing fire.  When  he  depicts  the  horrors  and  the  miseries 
of  war,  it  is  like  nothing  less  than  a  stream  of  flowing 
lava,  scorching  up  the  souls  of  his  breathless  hearers. 
Then,  changing  his  tone,  he  melts  all  hearts  by  describing 
the  peaceful  fruits  of  righteousness.  And  now,  gather- 
ing fresh  power,  he  parades  the  sanction  and  authority 
of  the  papal  see,  with  which  he  is  directly  arrayed  by 
letters  from  Gregory  IX.  himself.  Then,  "  in  the  name 
of  God  and  of  the  church,"  he  commands  the  Lombard 
States  to  renounce  all  their  enmities  forever,  and  from 


120  BROTHER   JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

his  lofty  seat  he  dictates  a  "treaty  of  universal  recon- 
ciliation." And  lastly,  Rome-like,  he  seals  the  act  of 
mutual  reconciliation  by  denouncing  withering  curses, 
temporal  and  spiritual,  on  whomsoever  in  time  to  come 
shall  dare  to  break  the  conditions  of  the  general  peace ; 
the  soul  of  that  profane  person  is  devoted  to  everlast- 
ing misery,  his  harvests  to  destruction,  his  flocks  and 
herds  to  mortal  contagion,  his  vines  to  perpetual  blight 
and  barrenness.  Muratori  has  preserved  one  of  these 
acts  of  pacification,  w^hose  conditions  are  little  more 
than  the  reciprocal  pardon  of  wrongs.  As  a  symbol  of 
peace,  the  Brother  John  then  insists  on  the  betrothal 
of  the  daughter  of  Albcric,  one  of  the  haughty  lords 
of  Romano,  with  the  stern  Marquis  of  Este;  and  with 
this  expressive  sign  of  friendship  the  brilliant  assembly 
of  Paquara  dispersed,  the  citizens  returning  with  joy 
to  their  peaceful  homes,  the  nobles  winding  their  way 
back  to  their  quiet  fortresses. 

Thus  far  the  mission  of  this  remarkable  man  was 
beautifully  worked  out,  as  far  as  it  went.  There  was 
something  strangely  foreign  to  the  fierce  hour  and  to 
the  hating  people  in  the  gentle  message  which  he  deliv- 
ered from  lips  of  such  sweet  persuasion,  preaching 
peace  and  brothers'  love  to  devouring  factions,  moving 
about  and  pleading  with  something  like  gospel  author- 
ity between  the  bristling  hosts  of  contending  armies, 
constraining  the  mailed  hands  of  enemies  to  clasp  each 
other  with  the  thrilling  pressure  of  reconciliation,  and 
rival  to  fall  upon  the  neck  of  rival  with  the  irresistible 
impulse  of  new-born  friendship.  But  to  man,  power, 
even  the  power  over  hearts,  is  an  intoxicating  thing, 
unless  he  be  kept  humble  by  the  pure  doctrines  of 


THE   DESCENT.  121 

Christianity,  and  the  balance  be  preserved  in  his  mind 
by  divine  grace.  John  of  Vicenza  now  proved  himself 
to  be  very  human,  by  imbibing  the  poison  without  turn- 
ing to  the  antidote.  The  lesson  marked  by  the  further 
steps  in  his  career  is  so  teaching,  that  it  must  by  no 
means  be  withheld.  His  honorable  career  culminated 
on  the  plain  of  Paquara ;  and  on  the  evening  of  that 
day  commenced  the  decline  which  ended  in  the  fall. 

He  returns  to  his  own  City  of  Vicenza,  demands 
the  concession  of  absolute  power  over  the  little  State, 
and,  monk  as  he  is,  absurdly  insists  upon  being  en- 
dowed with  the  secular  titles  of  "Duke"  and  "  Count." 
The  beguiled  people  put  great  faith  in  his  power  to 
reform  all  abuses,  and  to  initiate  a  golden  age  of  hap- 
piness, justice,  and  peace.  But  no :  the  results  disap- 
point expectation.  The  restless  cowled  lord  of  Vicenza 
goes  on  to  Verona,  and  is  there  also  endowed  with  irre- 
sponsible power  by  his  own  arrogant  demand.  He  is  fill- 
ing the  neighboring  castles  with  armed  garrisons,  exact- 
ing hostages  from  those  factions  which  he  cannot  trust, 
promulgating  novel  edicts  at  will,  and  actually  burning 
in  the  public  square  of  Verona  no  less  than  sixty  here- 
tics, whom  he  has  himself  condemned  to  this  horrible 
fate!  Is  this  the  gentle •  apostle  of  love?  the  meek 
missionary  of  peace  ?  Where  is  the  consistency  of  the 
Christian  ?  Volatile  as  ether,  it  has  evaporated  in  the 
vulgar  intoxication  of  vanity!  This  is  one-sided 
Christianity,  truly.  Brother  John  can  excuse  a  sin- 
ner, but  he  cannot  forgive  a  saint.  The  saints  must 
burn,  because,  daring  to  think  for  themselves,  they 
have  opened  their  hearts  to  the  truths  which  have  crept 
over  the  steep  sides  of  the  Alps  from  the  hidden  val- 

11 


122  BROTHER  JOHN   OF   VICENZA. 

leys  of   the  Albigenses.      Those  condemned  heretics 
belong  to  the  best  families  of  Verona. 

While  theso  miserable  scenes  are  enacting  in  the 
neighboring  city,  his  own  people,  the  Vicentians,  are 
beginning  to  rebel  against  the  capricious  rule  of  "  Count 
John."  Padua  is  also  rent  with  disaffection  and  jeal- 
ousy. There  is  a  "Brother  Jordan"  there.  Prior  of 
St.  Benedict,  who  cannot  calmly  see  all  secular  power 
gathered  into  the  hand  of  one  man;  and  so  "Brother 
Jordan"  determines  to  supplant  "Brother  John."  The 
latter  hastily  collects  some  troops,  and  hurries  to 
Vicenza.  He  recovers  the  municipal  palace,  and  gives 
it  over  to  pillage.  But  the  Paduan  troops  pour  into 
his  seditious  city,  overcome  his  followers,  and  throw  the 
great  pacificator  himself  into  prison.  That  turning  of 
the  lock  upon  "Brother  John"  effectually  destroys  the 
prestige  of  his  name.  He  is  only  a  factious  monk 
now;  his  matchless  oratory  is  silenced;  his  eloquent 
lips  are  sealed;  his  wondrous  mission  has  shriveled 
up  into  the  narrow  dimensions  of  a  dungeon  cell,  whose 
door  can  only  be  unbarred  at  the  powerful  remon- 
strance of  the  pope.  And  then  the  "fallen  angel" 
creeps  out,  and  glides  away  to  hide  his  dishonored  head 
behind  some  compassionate  screen  at  Bologna.  The 
crop  of  "serpents'  teeth,"  whose  harvest  had  only  been 
delayed  for  a  brief  space,  springs  up  again  all  over  the 
plains  of  Lombardy;  and  the  lesson  remains  upon  our 
hearts,  that  amiable  impulse  is  but  a  sorry  substitute 
for  sound  principle,  and  that  sweet  sentiment  is  little 
worth  unless  it  be  based  on  pure  Scripture  doctrine. 
"Brother  John"  had  no  right  to  borrow  the  text  which 
sounded  from  the  field-pulpit  of  Paquara:  "Peace  I 
leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you." 


NORTHERN    LIGHTS. 


NORTHERN   LIGHTS 


In  the  year  1519,  six  hostages,  representing  the 
first  families  of  Sweden,  are  pining  in  the  dark  dun- 
geons of  the  Castle  of  Copenhagen.  Several  of  them 
are  dying,  inch  by  inch,  and  day  by  day;  for,  free- 
born  sons  of  the  North  as  they  are,  a  prison  is  to  them 
a  tomb;  prison  fare  is  bitter  as  poison,  and  the  sound 
of  the  key,  as  it  groans  in  the  rusty  lock,  is  drear  as  a 
death-knell.  It  was  treachery  that  flung  them  down 
into  these  hideous  depths  of  misery;  for  Christian  II., 
King  of  Denmark,  who  has  worthily  earned  for  himself 
the  name  of  the  "Nero  of  the  North,"  had  broken  the 
agreement  which  he  had  made  with  Sten  Sture,  Regent 
of  Sweden,  and  had  nevertheless  carried  off  the  six 
noble  hostages  who  were  the  pledge  of  amity  betwixt 
them.  Five  of  them  are  drooping  or  dying;  but  one, 
a  youth  in  his  nineteenth  year,  is  still  holding  himself 
erect.  That  lad  is  born  a  hero,  and  he  knows  it !  He 
is  keeping  himself  alive  on  hope.  He  eats  every  crumb 
of  the  black  rye-bread  which  is  doled  out  to  him  in 
order  to  keep  up  his  strength  for  the  future.  He  will 
not  crouch  in  the  damp  corners  of  his  dungeon  like  his 
heart-broken  fellows;  but  he  paces  the  wet  flags  for 
exercise,  to  keep  his  limbs  straight,  and  his  muscles 
supple,  for  the  fulfillment  of  a  great  destiny.     His 

11*  (125) 


126  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

name  is  Gustavus  Ericson  Vasa.  He  is  grand-nephew 
of  a  former  king  of  Sweden,  Charles  Canutson;  and 
his  father  Eric,  whose  name  he  bears,  (Ericson,)  is  a 
noble  of  the  first  rank.  The  "Nero"  remembers  that 
he  holds  such  a  youth  in  his  dungeon,  and  sends  a  mes- 
senger down  the  slippery  steps  to  offer  great  things,  if 
Gustavus  Ericson  will  join  his  party.  The  boy  stead- 
fastly refuses.  He  loves  his  country ;  and  how  can  he 
strike  hand  to  hand  with  her  savage  oppressor  ?  Then 
down  comes  another  message-bearer,  bringing  dreadful 
threats  if  he  will  not  obey;  but  the  courtier  goes  back 
from  prison  to  palace  bearing  the  same  reply.  And 
then  Nero  goes  into  a  rage,  and  orders  the  bowstring 
to  be  used  as  the  ultimate  argument.  But  the  officer 
who  received  the  royal  commission  to  assassinate  the 
brave  boy  in  the  dark  of  his  dungeon  humbly  asks  to 
be  excused,  and  sets  forth  such  a  good  array  of  reasons 
why  it  would  be  wiser  policy  not  to  kill  the  lad,  that 
Christian  consents  to  keep  him  a  close  prisoner  instead. 
At  last  a  Danish  nobleman  with  a  kindly  countenance 
comes  to  Gustavus,  and  says  that  he  has  obtained  from 
the  king  permission  to  undertake  the  charge  of  the  im- 
practicable young  Swede,  in  order  to  convert  him  to  a 
better  mind.  But  he  also  tells  him  that  he  has  become 
surety  for  his  safety  to  the  extent  of  6000  crowns. 
This  communication  somewhat  takes  ofi"  the  shine  from 
his  brightening  prospects,  because  it  touches  his  honor, 
and  seems  to  bind  his  limbs  against  any  attempt  to 
escape ;  but  it  unbars  his  dungeon  door,  and  Gustavus 
gladly  walks  forth  beside  Banner,  his  generous  deliv- 
erer. 

They  go  together  to  Banner's  Castle  of  Calo,  amid 


A   NOBLE   DROVER.  127 

the  heaths  and  sands  of  Jutland;  and  he  is  now 
intrusted  with  a  fair  amount  of  personal  freedom,  while 
favors  and  kindnesses  are  showered  upon  him  in  the 
household  of  Banner.  It  would  be  a  pleasant  life 
enough,  hunting  over  the  limestone  moorlands,  or 
shooting  in  the  beech-woods,  or  fishing  in  the  silver 
net-work  of  lakes,  could  Gustavus  forget  his  country. 
But  he  cannot.  He  determines  to  rescue  her  if  he 
can,  and  to  settle  afterward  with  his  kind  host  about 
the  crowns.  Now  he  is  waving  a  farewell — "I  ride 
to  the  forest;"  and  he  rides  for  life  and  liberty!  At 
last  he  encounters  a  peasant:  ** Change  garments  with 
me;  thine  is  the  better  bargain."  He  dismounts  from 
his  horse ;  and  for  three  days  he  is  on  foot,  traversing 
pathless  mountains  or  threading  lonely  by-ways  in  the 
wilds.  At  last  he  sees  the  towers  of  Flensborg,  and 
presents  himself,  wayworn  and  footsore,  before  the 
gate.  Here  there  is  a  new  peril;  the  governor  may 
detect  the  high-born  fugitive  through  the  thin  mask  of 
his  peasant  garb.  But  here  comes  a  wealthy  Saxon 
drover,  conducting  his  fine  Schleswig  cattle  toward 
Lubeck.  He  joyfully  hires  himself  to  the  cattle-dealer, 
and,  busied  with  his  troublesome  charge,  enters  Lubeck 
in  safety.  He  must  have  driven  his  oxen  under  that 
remarkable  "Holstein  gate"  which  still  presents  to  the 
eye  so  beautiful  a  specimen  of  the  quaint  rich  archi- 
tecture of  the  fifteenth  century.  But  Banner,  seeing 
that  the  young  hunter  returned  not,  is  ofi"  on  his  track  : 
"My  friend  and  my  crowns!  my  crowns  and  my 
friend!"  He  cannot  afford  to  lose  them  both;  and  he 
searches  until  he  finds  the  runaway  in  the  free  city  of 
Lubeck.     Their  meeting  is  not  without  its  sharp  re-. 


128  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

proaches.  But  the  critical  position  of  the  fine  youth 
helps  out  his  gift  of  natural  eloquence,  and  Banner 
returns  to  his  fortress  of  Calo,  pacified  by  the  promise 
that  his  6000  crowns  shall  be  restored.  "  I  have  lost 
the  son  of  Eric!"  said  Banner,  and  Christian  of  Den- 
mark is  as  much  alarmed  as  he  is  transported  with 
rage.  He  sends  out  scouts,  who  hunt  the  land  for  the 
missing  prey;  but  all  the  while  Gustavus  is  safe  in 
LUbeck.  He  makes  a  firm  friend  of  the  principal 
ruler  in  the  prosperous  Hanse  town,  but  can  make 
little  way  with  the  remaining  members  of  the  regency ; 
and  though  he  at  last  obtains  a  vessel,  the  treacherous 
captain,  instead  of  landing  him  at  Stockholm,  as  young 
Yasa  had  stipulated,  puts  him  on  shore  at  Kalmar,  on 
the  bold  coast  of  Sweden,  just  where  it  faces  Oland. 
But  there  is  no  rest  for  him  in  Kalmar,  and  not  a 
single  friend  will  stand  by  his  side.  Worse  than  this, 
the  suspicious  and  oppressed  people  threaten  to  give 
him  up  to  their  terrible  conqueror,  unless  he  speedily 
relieve  them  of  his  presence.  Christian's  spies  are 
spread  abroad  over  the  land,  at  every  turn  of  the 
roads,  at  every  corner  of  the  streets,  on  every  pier  of 
the  harbors.  Gustavus  is  in  greater  peril  than  when 
he  threaded  the  by-paths  of  Schleswig,  w  when  he 
drove  his  cattle  from  Flensborg  to  the  ''  Holstein  gate," 
or  when  he  had  tried  to  keep  warmth  and  hope  alive 
by  pacing  the  damp  pavement  of  his  Copenhagen  cell. 
There  is  a  wagon,  loaded  with  hay,  lumbering 
heavily  along  over  the  well- watched  roads,  and  through 
the  very  quarters  of  the  Danish  army.  After  long 
travel,  it  stops  at  the  gate  of  an  old  castle  in  Suder- 
mania,  belonging  to  the  family  of  Vasa.     The  hay 


GUSTAVUS   ENTERS   HIS   ANCESTRAL   HALL.      129 

heaves  and  falls  asunder^  and  a  handsome  youth  in  the 
dress  of  a  Swedish  peasant  leaps  from  the  wagon,  and 
enters  with  firm  step  his  own  ancestral  hall.  He  now 
writes  letters  to  his  friends,  and  entreats  them  for  love 
of  country,  of  home,  of  freedom,  to  join  hands  and  to 
break  the  belt  of  Danish  forces  which  were  beleaguer- 
ing Stockholm,  still  held  by  Christina,  the  heroic 
widow  of  Sten  Sture.  Cold  answers  come  in  reply : 
no  one  will  move;  and  young  Gustavus  Vasa  is  alone 
in  the  land.  And  then  he  cautiously  moved  about 
among  the  peasantry,  asking  if  they  "did  not  care  for 
freedom?" — "Well!  Freedom  was  a  good  thing;  but 
thee  they  had  their  herrings  and  salt  under  the  rule 
of  King  Christian ;  and  any  stir  would  make  matters 
worse ;  for  peasants  they  were,  and  peasants  they 
would  be,  whoever  were  king." 

In  the  mean  time,  the  afikirs  of  his  distracted  coun- 
try were  becoming  more  and  more  hopelessly  involved. 
Sten  Sture,  the  regent,  was  dead.  He  had  been 
allured  into  an  ambush,  and  mortally  wounded  in  the 
struggle  which  ensued.  Counsels  were  divided,  and 
there  was  no  head  in  the  land.  The  Danish  Nero  was 
marching  through  the  country  with  sword  and  fagot, 
indulging  his  disposition  by  inflicting  the  most  fright- 
ful cruelties  on  the  helpless  people.  The  widow  of 
Sten  Sture  had  been  obliged  to  capitulate,  and  the 
metropolis  was  now  his.  And  then  followed  the  cele- 
brated tragedy  of  Stockholm.  Christian  had  just  been 
crowned  at  the  cathedral  as  king  of  the  conquered 
country,  by  the  hands  of  the  fierce  Gustavus  Trolle, 
Archbishop  of  Upsal.  That  man  was  a  monster  of 
cruelty ;  a  fitting  coadjutor  of  the  Northern  Nero.     It 


130  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

was  he  who  had  first  committed  to  Christian  of  Den- 
mark the  execution  of  a  decree  of  excommunication, 
which  he  had  obtained  from  the  luxurious  Leo  X., 
against  the  late  regent,  Sten  Sture,  and  his  adherents. 
The  archbishop  had  been  besieged  in  his  own  Castle  of 
Stecke,  had  been  degraded  by  the  Swedish  Diet,  and 
stripped  of  his  benefices.  Enough:  he  is  athirst  for 
revenge ;  and  now  the  time  is  come  for  drinking  his  fill 
of  the  poisoned  fountain.  But  the  incensed  primate 
and  his  royal  bosom-friend  will  go  to  work  gently, 
caressing  their  victims  to  the  last.  They  go  to  the 
cathedral,  and  the  Dane  swears  that  he  will  govern 
Sweden  with  "the  beneficence  of  a  prince  who  has 
been  called  to  the  throne  by  the  voice  of  the  people." 
Then  follows  a  grand  entertainment,  at  which  he  feasts 
and  flatters  senators,  prelates,  and  grandees,  for  three 
days  together.  At  the  close  of  the  last  day's  banquet 
there  is  a  little  movement  at  the  royal  end  of  the 
board:  the  primate  rises;  and  he  gently  reminds  his 
majesty,  that  when  granting  a  general  amnesty,  he 
had  forgotten  that  no  deference  had  been  shown  to  the 
pope;  and  he  (the  primate)  must  be  allowed  to  claim 
satisfaction  in  the  name  of  his  Holiness  Pope  Leo  X. 
This  is  the  preconcerted  signal.  Danish  soldiers  in- 
stantly fill  the  banqueting  hall,  and  the  astounded 
guests  are  all  seized  and  led  out  to  die !  The  primate 
condemns  them  as  malignant  heretics:  a  scafibld  is 
forthwith  erected;  and  thereon  perish  no  fewer  than 
ninety-four  nobles  and  distinguished  persons,  the  flower 
of  the  Swedish  aristocracy !  "  The  people  have  lost 
their  heads,"  thought  Christian,  "they  cannot  revolt 
any  more  for  lack  of  leaders."     Yes,  Christian;  but 


GUSTAV   CHANGING   HIS    HAUNTS.  131 

tyrants  now  and  then  reason  rightly  from  wrong  prem- 
ises. Old  Eric  Vasa  was  one  of  the  noblest  of  thy 
victims  on  this  terrible  day  of  extirpation;  but  where 
is  the  son  ?  Ay,  where  is  Gustav  ?  Remember  he  has 
never  yet  been  caught,  for  he  is  light  of  foot  as  a  young 
hart  upon  the  mountains.  He  is  twenty  years  of  age 
now.     Let  us  return  and  see  what  he  is  doing. 

Gustav  is  perpetually  changing  his  haunts  for  fear 
of  pursuit.  See  him  now  hurrying  along  the  lofty 
plains  of  the  interior,  3000  and  4000  feet  in  elevation, 
now  climbing  up  the  piny  sides  of  the  grand  barrier- 
wall  of  snow-topped  mountains,  which  divides  the  hardy 
Norwegian  from  the  Swede ;  now  hunting  the  elk  and 
the  deer  for  subsistence,  in  peril  of  bears  and  of  the 
horrid  troops  of  yelping  wolves ;  and  again  catching  a 
shot  at  the  snow-white  ptarmigan  and  great  capercail- 
zie for  a  meal.  Sometimes  see  the  youth  taking  an 
egg  from  the  nest  of  the  sea-fowl  on  the  narrow  ledge 
of  some  grand  headland  that  looks  upon  the  Bothnian 
waves.  Now  he  is  helping  the  red-haired  peasant-folk 
to  drive  their  little  hornless  cows  and  their  coarse- 
wooled  sheep  to  the  thin  pastures  of  the  uplands,  thank- 
fully accepting  the  hard  cake  of  rye-bread  in  lieu  of 
wages.  He  is  fain  sometimes  to  shrink  into  the 
shadowy  corner  of  the  hut,  in  the  long  twilight,  when 
work  is  done,  because  the  soft  blue  eyes  of  that  fair- 
haired  peasant-mother  are  marking  his  tapering  fingers, 
and  comparing  them  with  the  stumpy  hand  of  her 
good  Olaf,  who  is  chanting  old  runic  rhymes  at  the 
other  side  of  the  hearth.  At  last  the  blue  eyes  brim 
and  silently  run  over,  (as  her  own  little  lake  is  apt  to 
do  when  the  skies  are  tearful,)  for  she  has  read  high 


132  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

birth  and  deep  sorrow  in  the  noble  features  of  the 
stranger  youth,  and  she  lays  her  finger  meaningly 
upon  her  lips,  in  token  that  they  will  never  tell. 
"  Some  lady-mother  is  grieving  for  her  hunted  son,'* 
she  thinks :  and  Stenna  is  right. 

At  last  Gustavus  overhears  some  peasants  whisper- 
ing to  each  other  a  wondrous  tale,  which  makes  them 
shiver  with  horror.  He  listens;  and  now  he  knows 
that  his  honored  father,  Eric  Vasa,  and  his  noble  rela- 
tives and  friends,  have  perished  on  the  scafi'old  of 
Stockholm !  Then  for  the  first  time  the  spirit  of  the 
young  man  failed  within  him,  and  he  well-nigh  sank 
into  utter  despondency.  But  he  rouses  himself  again, 
and  bethinks  him  that  he  will  fly  to  the  forests  and 
mountains  of  Dalecarlia,  to  see  if  a  spark  of  patriot- 
ism can  yet  b^e  kindled  in  the  deep  heart  of  the  mines. 
A  peasant  is  willing  to  guide  him,  and  his  ofier  is 
gladly  accegjted.  Pity  that  young  Gustavus  did  not 
better  understand  the  symbolic  language  of  character 
as  written  in  the  expression  of  man's  truth-revealing 
face,  or  he  would  have  seen  that  it  was  by  no  means 
safe  to  intrust  to  that  sturdy  Scandinavian,  with  the 
long  red  hair  and  the  little  twinkling  gray  eye,  the  poor 
wallet  wherein  he  had  stored  his  little  all  of  property; 
the  small  scrapings  of  his  ruined  patrimony ;  the  little 
capital  with  which  he  was  to  begin  life;  the  funds 
wherewith  he  must  start  in  his  struggle  for  the  North- 
ern crown.  On  they  toil  together,  however,  through 
province  after  province— Sudermania,  Nericia,  Wester- 
mania.  But  the  sulky  guide  can  entertain  the  wild 
journey  of  the  Northern  wayfarer  by  singing  fitful 
snatches   from   the   fine   old   Eddas  of   his   country. 


THE   PEASANT   GUIDE.  133 

When  the  sun  of  the  short  summer  shines  in  festal 
beauty,  the  man  chants  the  marriage  of  Odin  with  his 
flower-crowned  bride,  the  earth.  And  when  he  just 
bends  his  golden  head  toward  the  shining  ice-fields  that 
silvered  the  mountain-tops,  to  raise  it  immediately 
again,  with  the  joy  of  a  fresh  day-spring,  he  sang  how 
Odin  bathed  nightly  in  the  ocean  in  order  to  invigor- 
ate himself  for  the  next  day's  glorious  circuit. 

But  now  the  last  wearisome  ridge  is  crossed,  and  the 
travelers  dip  down  into  Dalecarlia — the  "valley  land,'* 
as  the  name  imports.  The  forests  became  more  dense, 
the  thickets  more  impenetrable,  the  lakes  more  gloomy, 
save  that  expanse  of  serene  .blue  that  looks  upward  so 
lovingly  to  the  Northern  sky,  and  which  the  natives 
fondly  call  "the  eye  of  Dalecarlia."  Gustavus  sees 
before  him  a  grand  but  rugged  district,  arranged  into 
three  great  valleys  by  the  stern  disposition  of  three  or 
four  ranges  of  gnesis,  granite,  and  porphjritic  mount- 
ains. Ice-bound  as  are  their  defiant  brows,  they  never- 
theless submit  to  be  swathed  about  their  feet  by  bands 
of  dark  forest,  where  the  pine  and  the  oak  harden 
themselves  as  best  they  may  against  the  quick  return 
of  winter.  He  sees  how  the  River  Dal  wanders  through 
the  whole  length  of  the  province,  among  the  stony 
pastures  where  both  man  and  beast  are  taught  thrift 
and  hardihood  by  the  stern  economy  of  nature.  He 
sees  how  this  rude  training  has  made  the  Dalecarlian 
stalwart  and  noble  in  his  bearing ;  his  blue  eyes  deeply 
set,  glacier  like,  in  the  hollow  beneath  the  shaggy 
brow;  his  thin  lips  sharply  cut  and  compressed  by  the 
force  of  the  strong  will  within;  his  forehead  high  and 
broad,  following  the  mountainous  type  which  prevails 

12 


134.  NORTHERN  LIGHTS. 

around  him.  He  makes  the  woods  ring  with  his  stir- 
ring old  ballads  about  liberty;  and  when  he  talks  in 
his  simple  freedom  with  his  superior,  he  says  *'thou" 
to  him  in  the  quaint  manner  of  the  olden  time. 

At  last  Gustavus  beholds  those  yawning  mouths  in 
the  face  of  the  hills,  and  the  black  breath  of  the  great 
»blast  furnaces,  which  showed  him  that  he  was  approach- 
ing the  subterranean  world  of  the  mines.  Here  all 
beauty  in  nature  drooped  and  died,  mortally  poisoned 
by  the  fumes  of  the  copper  smoke.  But  his  guide,  his 
fellow-traveler,  who  has  eaten  of  his  crust,  and  knows 
his  secret — what  has  become  of  his  trusty  guide? 
Gone !  And  the  wallet,  the  little  treasury  of  a  king- 
dom'Hn  nubihus  P"  Gone,  too!  Cruel!  But  Gus- 
tavus is  not  the  youth  to  sit  down  upon  the  nearest 
stone  and  wring  his  hands  in  despair.  There  are  many 
roads  to  greatness  besides  the  royal  one  that  is  paved 
with  gold,  whereon  walk  stately  men  that  were  born  in 
the  purple.  Misfortune  is  no  new  acquaintance,  and  he 
will  try  if  his  path  of  life,  which  has  dipped  down  into 
a  dungeon  and  successfully  emerged  therefrom,  may 
not  just  as  ominously  plunge  down  into  the  yawning 
throat  of  a  mine,  and  return  just  as  triumphantly  to 
the  light  of  day.  Something  must  be  done  to  earn  a 
meal,  and  that  speedily,  for  he  was  well-nigh  famished. 
And  so  the  hungry  youth  presents  himself  amid  the 
groups  of  dark  figures,  and  hires  himself  to  work  under 
ground  as  a  common  miner.  There,  fathoms  deep, 
beneath  the  stony  face  of  the  "valley  land,"  he  wrought 
patiently  and  laboriously  with  pick  and  shovel,  ap- 
proaching the  citadel  of  greatness,  like  a  "sapper  and 
miner,"  by  blind  galleries  and  underground  passages. 


THE  DISCOVERY.  135 

The  while  he  digs,  he  talks  with  the  mine  folk  so  elo- 
quently, and  upon  such  stirring  themes,  that  they 
pause,  lean  upon  their  tools,  and  think  that  they  could 
listen  forever  to  the  fine  youth  with  the  bright  eye  and 
the  silvery  speech.  He  has  such  a  noble  mien  also, 
such  a  stately  carriage,  that  they  are  never  weary  of 
watching  him.  At  length  (it  is  a  woman's  eye  that 
makes  the  discovery)  it  is  noticed  that  the  collar  of 
his  shirt  is  elaborately  embroidered.  That  is  enough; 
the  embroidered  collar  fits  well  with  the  stately  graces 
of  his  fine  person  and  polished  speech.  Rumor  that 
there  is  a  persecuted  noble  hiding  among  them  runs 
like  fire-damp  along  the  winding  galleries  and  scales 
the  shaft,  until  the  upper  world  is  moved  by  the  echo. 
A  gentleman  who  lived  in  the  mine  neighborhood 
caught  a  whisper  about  ^he  handsome  youth  who  was 
stirring  the  strong  hearts  of  the  people  below,  and  he 
went  down  to  see  about  it.  He  looked,  and  saw  by  the 
light  of  memory  and  of  the  flaming  torch  that  it  was 
young  Gustavus  Vasa,  with  whom  he  had  studied  some 
few  years  since  at  the  University  of  Upsal.  Gustavus 
sees  that  his  secret  is  deciphered,  for  his  old  friend 
turns  sharply  away  to  hide  a  gush  of  tears,  but  not  a 
word  is  said  between  them.  Night  comes,  and  brings  a 
message  from  the  Dalecarlian  gentleman.  Gustavus 
makes  his  way  to  his  wooden  mansion,  and  there  joy- 
fully accepts  his  offer  of  a  home,  of  friendship,  and 
of  protection.  In  this  pleasant  hiding-place  he  tarries 
for  some  time;  but  the  college  friend,  faithful  as  he 
is  to  all  the  passive  duties  of  friendship,  has  no  mind 
to  move  actively  in  the  desperate  undertaking  of  deliv- 
ering a  conquered  country,  and  of  restoring  a  lost 


136  NOKTHERN   LIGHTS. 

kingdom,  whicli  the  untamed  young  enthusiast  is  per- 
petually urging  upon  him.  No:  the  cautious  friend 
would  rather  wait  until  he  see  hopeful  signs  of  pros- 
perity breaking  upon  the  land,  like  the  sudden  summer 
of  the  North,  born  in  a  moment,  to  gush  in  an  over- 
flowing stream  of  beauty  and  gladness  over  the  frozen 
earth.  No:  he  would  wait  until  the  summer-tide  of 
good  fortune  should  set  in.  This  sober  policy  suits 
not  Grustavus  Vasa ;  his  country  is  down-trampled  and 
wretched;  there  is  a  price  set  upon  his  own  head,  and 
his  heart  misgives  him  about  the  fate  of  his  mother  and 
his  sisters.  They  must  be  in  the  power  of  Christian 
of  Denmark,  and  he  can  know  no  rest  until  he  learn 
their  safety.  He  leaves  the  pleasant  home  of  the  col- 
lege friend,  and  journeys  to  the  house  of  another 
acquaintance  of  former  days,  *whom  he  has  discovered. 
Peterson  receives  him  with  every  demonstration  of  cor- 
diality, and  agrees  to  raise  his  vassals  in  order  to  help 
forward  their  common  cause.  Gustavus's  trusting 
nature  must  have  been  easily  imposed  on :  he  has  mis- 
read this  face  also.  Peterson  slips  out  of  the  house — 
to  rouse  his  people,  of  course  ?  Not  so ;  but  to  reveal 
to  a  Danish  officer  who  it  is  that  is  eating  at  his  board, 
and  sleeping  under  his  roof-tree.  The  Danish  com- 
mander instantly  orders  out  a  troop  of  soldiers,  who 
steal  up  in  extended  line,  and  then  close  round  the 
house,  until  the  two  ends  meet.  Is  the  noble  quarry 
caught  in  the  toils  at  last?  No:  woman's  kindly  heart 
and  ready  wit  have  saved  him.  Peterson's  wife  had 
discovered  the  treachery  of  her  lord,  warned  the  poor 
guest  of  his  mortal  peril,  and  sent  him  off  to  the  house 
of  a  friendly  priest,  before  the  two  ends  of  the  deadly 


DIVINELY   LED.  137 

circle  had  met ;  and  so,  when  they  joined,  it  was  as  the 
serpent  biting  its  tail  with  rage.  The  priest  shuts  him 
up  in  a  little  cell  within  the  walls  of  the  church  itself, 
locks  the  door,  and  quietly  walks  home  with  the  key 
in  his  pocket.  The  scent  is  lost,  and  the  hunters  are 
baffled.  But  now  and  then  the  priest  leisurely  walks 
into  his  church,  unlocks  the  closet,  and  nourishes  the 
poor  captive  with  a  little  food  and  a  little  sympathy. 

Solemn  thoughts  must  have  passed  through  the  mind 
of  the  young  man,  now  about  twenty-two  years  of  age, 
as  he  lingered  within  the  narrow  hiding-place  in  which 
he  had  taken  "sanctuary,"  in  perpetual  danger  of  dis- 
covery, and  in  uncongenial  inactivity.  Could  he  fail 
to  perceive  that  God's  "goodness  and  mercy  had  fol- 
lowed him  all  the  days  of  his  life?"  that  it  could  nor 
be  for  naught  that  he  had  been  thus  rescued  from  so 
many  perils  ?  that  there  must  be  a  lofty  mission  in  store 
for  him,  which  he  must  work  out  with  a  lowly  mind? 
It  would  be  interesting  could  we  learn  the  history  of 
his  conversion;  but  certain  it  is,  that  somewhere  about 
this  period  he  embraced  the  religious  tenets  of  the 
great  German  Reformer;  and  when  power  and  respons- 
ibility afterward  came  together  to  him,  he  made  the 
Protestant  religion  the  law  of  his  life  and  of  his  land. 
Luther  had  just  emerged  from  his  friendly  prison,  on 
the  lonely  height  of  the  Wartburg,  carrying  in  his  firm 
hand  the  manuscript  of  holy  Scripture,  whose  rendering 
into  the  heart-searching  tongue  of  the  father-land  had 
been  the  meat  and  drink  of  his  "Patmos"  retirement. 
One  of  his  disciples,  Olaus  Petri  by  name,  full  of  love 
to  the  great  cause,  and  fired  with  zeal  for  its  difiusion, 
was  secretly  laboring  at  a  kindred  work.     Olaus  Petri, 

12'" 


138  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

like  his  beloved  master,  will  emerge  by  and  by,  when 
the  right  hour  comes  for  the  beaming  of  the  Northern 
Lights ;  and  he  will  carry  in  his  hand  the  version  of 
the  Bible  into  the  beautiful  tongue  of  the  Swedes,  the 
fruit  of  his  own  earnest  toil. 

But  this  is  an  onward  glance ;  for  at  this  moment 
Gustavus  and  his  friend,  the  priest,  are  conferring  in 
the  little  cell  about  the  safest  mode  of  exit,  and  the 
most  direct  means  of  opening  a  communication  with  the 
heart  of  the  people.  ^'Go  to  Mora,"  said  the  priest, 
"and  talk  to  the  peasants  face  to  face;  thou  hast  a 
persuasive  tongue  and  an  eloquent  countenance.  The 
village  folk  of  all  the  valley-land  will  presently  gather 
together  at  Mora,  to  hold  their  annual  feast.  Go  to 
Mora;"  and  to  Mora,  on  the  great  Lake  Siljan,  went 
Gustavus  Vasa.  The  priest  was  right;  the  people 
replied  to  the  words  of  the  young  patriot  as  touch- 
wood replies  to  the  spark.  They  resolve  instantly  to 
throw  off  the  galling  yoke  of  the  Dane.  Their  enthu- 
siasm is  tumultuous  and  irresistible;  the  more  so  for 
this  favoring  token,  that  while  their  late  fellow-worker 
in  the  mine  was  pouring  forth  his  stimulating  eloquence, 
the  wind  had  suddenly  shifted  round  to  the  north.  "A 
sure  omen  of  success!"  cried  the  old  men  with  joy. 
"St.  Eric  has  shifted  his  cap!"*  Gustavus  avails  him- 
self of  this  first  burst  of  enthusiasm,  and  leads  the 
miners  against  the  castle  of  the  Danish  governor. 
Pity  that  the  garrison  was  put  to  the  sword,  when  the 
stronghold  was  taken.  Gustavus  Vasa  has  been 
called,  and  not  very  unworthily,   "The  Swedish  Al- 

*  The  origin  of  the  sailor's  expression,  "a  capful  of  wind." 


THE   FIELD   OF   MORA.  139 

fred;"  but  our  own  great  king  would  not  have  slaugh- 
tered a  beaten  foe.  Most  probably  he  would  have  put 
pickaxes  into  the  unwilling  hands  of  his  captured 
Danes,  and  sent  them  down  into  the  great  mine  of 
Falun,  to  dig  their  way  into  a  new  destiny,  and  to 
work  themselves  into  a  better  mind.  However,  this 
success  was  supposed  to  be  the  result  of  the  capful  of 
northern  wind  which  had  blown  so  propitiously  over 
the  field  of  the  great  "palaver"  at  Mora.  Peasant- 
men  and  mining-men  came  trooping  to  the  standard  of 
Gustavus,  and  soon  he  had  5000  herculean  forms 
around  him.  Money  came  pouring  in  also,  to  fill  the 
empty  cofier,  and  some  gentlemen  of  station  joined  his 
cause.  Christian  hears  that  the  lost  youth  has  sprung 
up  to  the  light  of  day  from  some  unknown  hiding- 
place  in  the  heart  of  the  earth,  and  he  sends  reinforce- 
ments forthwith  to  Dalecarlia;  but  Gustavus  and  his 
peasants  defeat  them.  The  terrible  Archbishop  of 
Upsal,  Gustavus  Trolle,  is  also  in  the  field,  making 
desperate  eiForts  to  overcome  the  son  of  the  murdered 
Eric;  but  young  Gustavus  Vasa  is  now  more  than  a 
match  for  old  Gustavus  Trolle.  The  young  hero  now 
ventures  to  attack  Stockholm;  but  this  is  an  under- 
taking which  he  is  not  yet  strong  enough  to  carry  to  a 
successful  issue,  and  he  is  beaten  back  with  loss. 
However,  the  tardy  Lubeck  friends,  seeing  that  peas- 
ants from  ail  parts  of  the  kingdom  are  now  flocking 
round  the  standard  of  revolt,  think  they  may  safely 
venture  to  assist  their  young  acquaintance,  the  drover- 
lad,  and  they  send  him  some  welcome  reinforcements. 
And  now.  Christian  of  Denmark  again  drew  himself 
up  to  his  full  stature  as  the  veritable  "Nero  of  the 


140  NORTHERN   LIGHTS. 

North."  The  mother  and  sisters  of  our  patriot  are 
put  to  death  by  his  order,  with  circumstances  of  hor- 
rible barbarity;  and  the  noble  race  of  Vasa  is  now 
represented  by  Gustavus  alone.  But  this  savagery 
worked  no  good  to  the  cause  of  Christian.  It  only 
gave  greater  firmness  to  the  attitude  of  the  Swedes; 
and  Gustavus  was  soon  after  publicly  recognized  as 
regent  of  the  kingdom,  by  the  States  which  he  had 
summoned  to  meet  at  Wadstena.  Thus  endowed  with 
the  sanction  of  legal  authority,  and  strengthened  by 
promises  of  general  support,  he  went  forth  with  the 
assured  step  of  confident  expectation.  There  was  hard 
work  before  him;  harder  than  when  he  delved  in  the 
mine;  for  Soren  Norby,  '* Nero's"  general,  is  no  despic- 
able enemy.  The  struggle  between  Dane  and  Swede 
is  still  a  desperate  one;  and  the  ''Swedish  Alfred's" 
marvelous  power  of  endurance  is  yet  further  tested  by 
bitter  disappointments,  loss  following  hard  upon  loss. 
At  last  Norby  was  suddenly  paralyzed  by  hearing  that 
Christian's  own  people,  the  Danes  themselves,  unable 
longer  to  endure  the  load  of  such  a  frightful  tyranny, 
had  unanimously  risen,  and  driven  him  ignominiously 
out  of  the  kingdom. 

And  so  Sweden  is  free !  Gustavus  Vasa  is  elected 
king  by  the  Swedish  Diet,  with  such  wild  acclaims  of 
enthusiastic  gratitude,  that  to  take  the  votes  in  regular 
style  was  simply  impossible.  This  was  in  the  year 
1523,  when  he  was  twenty-three  years  of  age.  Now 
was  the  time  for  Gustavus  to  declare  his  attachment 
to  the  Reformed  doctrines;  and,  taking  the  Swedish 
Bible  from  the  hand  of  good  Olaus  Petri,  he  spread  it 
abroad  throughout  the  whole  kingdom — an  open  Bible 


THE   FAITH   OP   GUSTAVUS.  141 

in  the  home-language  of  the  people.  More  than  this : 
he  invited  out  of  Germany  men  learned  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, to  expound  to  his  subjects,  so  long  kept  in  the 
dark  that  they  could  but  dimly  see,  the  enlightening 
doctrines  of  the  Reformation.  In  the  year  1527,  warm 
debates  took  place  on  the  subject  of  religion ;  but  Gus- 
tavus  nobly  declared,  that  he  would  lay  down  his  hard- 
earned  scepter  and  retire  from  the  land,  rather  than 
rule  a  people  doomed  to  be  perpetually  enslaved  by 
the  pope.  This  was  enough ;  and  by  solemn  decree  of 
the  States,  in  Diet  assembled,  the  Lutheran  faith  be- 
came henceforth  the  established  religion  of  the  coun- 
try. One  more  boon  he  asked  of  the  States,  in  the 
year  1542;  and  what  could  they  refuse  to  their  noble 
deliverer?  He  asked  that  the  crown  should  be  de- 
clared hereditary  in  the  house  of  Vasa;  and  the  Diet 
said,  "Amen." 

Peace  and  truth  established  in  the  land,  Gustavus 
turned  his  vigorous  mind  to  the  cultivation  of  learn- 
ing and  to  the  spirited  encouragement  of  commerce. 
Favorable  commercial  treaties  were  made  with  England 
and  Holland ;  and  Eric,  the  handsome  but  worthless 
son  and  heir,  was  even  commissioned  to  try  if  he  could 
woo  and  win  the  maiden  Queen  of  England.  But  of 
course  Elizabeth  Tudor  only  coquetted  with  the  Scan- 
dinavian suitor. 

At  last,  in  the  year  1560,  when  Gustavus  Vasa  had 
numbered  his  sixty  years,  this  bright  light  faded  from 
the  northern  sky;  to  be  followed,  after  a  gloomy  in- 
terval of  darkness,  by  the  brief  flash  of  a  yet  more 
brilliant  "Aurora." 


THE    "SNOW-KING/' 


THE    ''SNOW-KING.' 


Thirty-four  years  of  confusion  and  unrest  had 
troubled  the  Swedish  land  since  Gustavus  Vasa,  the 
Christian  hero  of  Scandinavian  romance,  had  left 
behind  him  a  prosperous  country  and  an  enlightened 
church.  Thirty-four  years  had  passed,  when  there 
was  born  into  the  northern  world  one  on  whom  divine 
Providence  had  set  its  unmistakable  mark  from  his 
very  cradle ;  and  truly  it  was  a  cradle  that  was  rocked 
by  storms.  Seventeen  years  more,  and  that  boy  will 
ascend  the  throne  of  his  noble  grandsire,  to  bear  in 
the  world's  history  the  well-beloved  name  of  Gustavus 
Adolphus.  Sweden  may  well  prize  "the  memory  of  her 
two  Gustavuses.  It  was  the  grandsire  who  first  intro- 
duced his  newly-modeled  kingdom  into  the  great  family 
of  European  nations ;  it  was  the  grandson  who  for  a 
brief  period  made  that  country  the  arbiter  of  Europe 
and  the  terror  of  Rome.  It  was  the  great  Gustavus 
Vasa  who  had  given  to  his  people  outward  considera- 
tion, a  free  hearth,  and  an  open  Bible ;  it  was  the 
greater  Gustavus  Adolphus  to  whom  the  liberty  of 
Europe  made  its  last  appeal,  and  who,  even  in  dying, 
secured  to  Protestantism  its  civil  rights  and  religious 
privileges.  If  the  result  of  that  terrible  contest  which 
is  known  to  history  by  the  name  of  "The  Thirty 
13  (145) 


146  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

Years*  War,"  were  other  than  that  for  which  Ferdi- 
nand of  Austria  struggled,  and  Tilly  exterminated,  and 
Wallenstein  arose  and  fell,  it  was  because  Gustavus 
Adolphus  sat  for  a  few  memorable  years  on  the  throne 
which  had  been  founded  in  the  North  by  Gustavus 
Vasa.  It  is  true,  and  sad,  that  he  died  at  Lutzen, 
sixteen  years  before  the  "Treaty  of  Westphalia,"  which 
gave  peace  and  rest  to  fainting  Europe,  was  signed  in 
the  Frieden-Saal  of  Miinster;  but  Sweden,  once  ani- 
mated by  the  intrepid  spirit  of  her  hero,  maintained 
her  ground  on  the  soil  of  rescued  Europe;  and  Gus- 
tavus Adolphus,  in  dying,  found  an  illustrious  trustee, 
who  could  fulfill  his  counsels  and  accomplish  his  be- 
quests, in  the  person  of  his  friend  and  servant.  Axel 
Oxenstiern.  Gustavus  Adolphus  was  not  crowned 
king  in  Stockholm  according  to  the  smooth  succession 
of  unquestioned  descent.  His  accession  was  on  this 
wise:  the  handsome  Eric  had  succeeded  his  father, 
Gustavus  Vasa;  but,  headstrong  and  violent,  his  sole 
apology  is  found  in  the  fact,  that  actual  insanity  at 
last  disqualified  him  from  reigning.  His  brothers, 
John  and  Charles,  at  all  events  decided  that  Eric's 
head  ached  with  too  incurable  a  malady  to  bear  the 
heavy  circlet  of  a  crown,  and  John  and  Charles  pro- 
cured from  the  Diet  a  solemn  act  of  deposition.  Eric 
thus  removed  out  of  the  way,  John,  who  had  some  time 
before  escaped  from  the  prison  in  which  the  hot-headed 
elder  brother  had  immured  him,  now  became  king  of 
Sweden.  But  John  had  strong  popish  tendencies,  and 
it  was  observed  with  jealous  forebodings,  that  he  was 
carefully  training  his  young  son,  Sigismund,  in  the 
doctrines  and  practices  of  Rome.     Now,  this  was  in- 


CHOOSING  A   KING.  147 

tolerable  to  the  newly-emancipated  Swedes.  It  was 
a  fundamental  law  in  the  statute-book  of  Gustavus 
Vasa,  that  no  adherent  of  popery  could  hold  office  in 
the  State;  and  all  future  kings  were  prohibited  from 
changing  the  religious  constitution  of  the  realm:  for 
Lutheran  it  was,  and  Lutheran  it  should  remain  unto 
all  generations.  When  the  son,  Sigismund,  came  to  the 
throne,  his  proceedings  were  watched  with  well-founded 
distrust;  and  when,  in  addition  to  his  treasonable 
attempts  to  re-establish  popery  in  the  land,  it  was 
found  that  his  acceptance  of  the  crown  of  Poland  in- 
volved a  protracted  residence  in  a  foreign  land,  the 
eyes  of  the  dissatisfied  nation  were  fixed  upon  Charles, 
Duke  of  Sudermania,  third  son  of  Gustavus  Vasa, 
whose  attachment  to  the  Reformation  was  firm  and 
undisguised.  And  therefore  Protestant  Charles,  by 
decree  of  the  Swedish  Diet,  was  placed  on  the  throne 
of  his  Protestant  father,  the  law  of  primogeniture, 
which  that  father  had  enjoined,  being  waived  on  his 
behalf;  and  Sigismund^  with  all  his  posterity,  was 
banished  from  the  line  of  succession  forever.  It  was 
in  the  year  1604  that  Charles  IX.  obtained  the  sover- 
eignty of  Sweden:  and  to  him  had  been  born,  ten 
years  before  this  date,  our  young  hero,  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus.  This  slight  summary  was  -needed  to  show  how 
our  fine  young  cadet  of  the  Vasa  family  came  to  wear 
the  crown  of  his  noble  grandsire,  and  also  to  give  an 
intelligible  reason  for  the  enmity  of  his  cousin  Sigis- 
mund, which  burdened  his  early  years  with  a  Polish 
war. 

While  his  father  yet  lived,  the  mind  of  the  young 
Gustavus  was  rapidly  expanding,  in  keeping  with  his 


148  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

prodigious  strength  and  loftj  stature.  His  accomplish- 
ments were  right  royal  in  their  character:  he  could 
talk  with  the  Germans  in  their  expressive  tongue;  he 
spoke  the  musical  Italian  and  the  conversational 
French,  and  could  even  converse  gracefully  in  classic 
Latin.  He  read  history,  ancient  as  well  as  modern, 
with  the  eagerness  of  a  passion;  was  a  proficient  in 
mathematics,  and  in  all  those  studies  which  illustrate 
the  military  art ;  gave  his  attention  to  political  economy, 
and  experimentally  went  through  the  whole  laborious 
routine  of  a  common  soldier's  life.  His  moral  and  re- 
ligious principles  were  lofty  and  pure;  and  his  har- 
monious practice,  in  keeping  with  the  exalted  standard 
which  he  had  set  before  his  eyes,  was  such  as  is  rarely 
found  within  the  perilous  precincts  of  a  court.  Young 
Gustavus  Adolphus  prayed  his  earnest  prayers,  and 
read  Olaus  Petri's  Bible,  and  tried  to  live  by  its  rules, 
just  as  if  he  had  a  soul  to  be  saved  like  others,  and 
not  as  if  he  belonged  to  the  privileged  class  of  royal 
sinners  of  his  day,  who,  because  they  were  born  in  the 
purple,  imagined  themselves  to  be  superior  to  the  re- 
quirements of  the  law  and  to  the  sanctions  of  the  gos- 
pel. And  then  his  father  died.  But  the  boy  is  only 
seventeen  years  of  age,  tall  though  he  be,  and  athletic 
as  a  young  bear-hunter  of  the  Dalecarlian  forests. 
There  was  a  law  on  the  statute-book,  that  the  heir  of 
the  throne  should  not  attain  his  majority  until  he  had 
reached  his  twenty-fourth  year.  But  the  character  of 
the  youth  was  so  matured,  his  principles  so  fixed,  his 
genius  so  remarkable,  and,  above  all,  his  attachment 
to  their  beloved  Protestantism  so  devoted,  that  the 
Estates  joyfully  abridged  in  his  favor  the  period  of 


STATESMANSHIP   OF   OXENSTIBRN.  149 

legal  minority.  One  of  the  guardians  who  appealed 
to  the  Diet  for  the  full  recognition  of  their  young 
charge,  was  that  celebrated  Axel  Oxenstiern,  who, 
eleven  years  his  senior,  became  his  friend  in  counsel 
and  his  right  hand  in  action  for  the  remainder  of  his 
great  career.  Gustavus  Adolphus  carried  himself  with 
singular  modesty  and  grace  during  the  ceremonial  of 
his  inauguration.  He  spoke  to  the  assembled  senators 
of  his  youth,  of  his  inexperience,  of  the  great  diffi- 
culties and  involvements  of  the  times :  but  he  declared 
that  he  would  endeavor  to  acquit  himself  with  honor, 
magnanimity,  and  fidelity;  that  he  would  govern  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  would  pre- 
serve the  reformed  faith  as  long  as  he  lived.  Rarely 
have  large  promises  been  more  righteously  kept; 
seldom  has  a  pledge  been  more  honorably  redeemed. 
The  first  act  of  the  young  King  of  Sweden  was  one 
which  gave  promise  of  a  high  degree  of  penetration. 
He  read  in  Oxenstiern,  then  but  twenty-eight  years  of 
age,  those  indications  of  political  sagacity,  of  far- 
sighted  wisdom,  of  immoveable  resolution,  and  of  up- 
right principle,  which  soon  made  him  the  greatest' 
statesman  of  the  age.  Can  this  be  said  advisedly 
of  an  age  which  produced  a  Richelieu?  Yes:  inas- 
much as  good  is  stronger  than  evil,  and  the  right  wears 
better  in  the  long  run  than  does  the  wrong.  Riche- 
lieu was  born  two  years  later  than  Oxenstiern;  and 
he  left  the  world  which  he  had  made  turbid  with  his 
unscrupulous  ambition  twelve  years  sooner  than  the 
Swede ;  but,  whenever  or  wherever  their  minds  met,  in 
the  keen  fencing-school  of  the  cabinet,  or  in  the  com- 
plications of  general  diplomacy,  or  in  the  broader  dis- 

18* 


150  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

positions  of  the  great  European  field  of  strategy,  the 
upright  Axel  Oxenstiern  was  almost  always  a  match 
for  the  subtle  Armand  Richelieu. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  a  king  of  seventeen  years 
made  prime  minister  and  chancellor  of  his  kingdom; 
and  right  honorably  did  the  consummate  statespaan 
justify  the  confidence  of  his  young  master,  over  whose 
early  death  he  lived  to  weep,  and  whose  wayward  child 
he  served,  until  his  seventy-first  year. 

But  there  is  a  painful  conflict  going  on  within  the 
heart  of  Gustavus.  He  loves  the  youthful  Countess 
of  Brahe;  and  so  worthy  does  she  seem  to  him  of  all 
the  honorable  affection  which  he  can  bestow,  that  he 
had  determined  in  his  untrained  enthusiasm  to  make 
her  his  queen  and  the  partner  of  his  throne.  But, 
alas !  for  their  simple  and  ignorant  loves !  The  Count- 
ess of  Brahe  is  but  the  daughter  of  a  subject — and  he 
is  a  king.  Kings  may  not  love,  and  woo,  and  wed  like 
their  people,  with  the  priceless  freedom  of  choice :  they 
must  love  in  severe  obedience  to  State  interests,  and 
may  by  no  means  make  unequal  matches.  Perhaps  it 
was  Oxenstiern  who  revealed  to  the  young  lover  this 
unpalatable  truth;  perhaps  it  was  suggested  by  his 
own  sense  of  the  general  fitness  of  things.  And  so 
Gustavus  gained  his  first  victory,  turned  resolutely 
away  from  the  lovely  countess,  and  set  his  affections 
upon  his  country  instead.  Of  course  it  was  not  worth 
while  for  dignified  history  to  say  if  the  countess  were 
equally  heroic. 

First  of  all,  on  beginning  to  reign,  Gustavus  had 
some  old  difficulties  to  settle  with  Christian  IV.  of 
Denmark,  who  had  invaded  Sweden  before  he  himself 


THE   CORONATION.  151 

had  come  to  the  throne,  and  who  was  evidently  medi- 
tating fresh  aggressions  on  the  territories  of  his  young 
neighbor.  He  therefore  dashed  into  Denmark,  with 
three  different  armies  at  once,  and  induced  Christian 
to  make  a  favorable  peace,  though  at  the  expense  of 
some  amicable  concessions  on  the  part  of  Sweden. 
This  was  in  1613.  Four  years  later,  and  the  young 
"Lion  of  the  North,"  as  he  was  beginning  to  be  called, 
was  shaking  his  mane  against  the  Muscovite  czar,  who 
had  supposed  that  it  would  be  perfectly  safe  to  forget 
to  repay  to  the  crowned  youth  of  Stockholm  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money  which  had  been  lent  to  Russia. 
Gustavus  consequently  marched  into  Russia,  seized  a 
city  or  two  in  pledge  of  payment,  and  soon  returned 
home  with  the  account  settled  and  signed;  ay,  and 
with  several  fresh  provinces  added  to  the  crown  of 
Sweden.  A  more  protracted  contest  awaited  him  in 
Poland.  But  between  the  Russian  expedition  and  the 
Polish  war  there  is  the  grand  ceremonial  of  a  corona- 
tion. This  stately  solemnity  was  performed  at  Upsal, 
the  Alma  Mater  of  the  North,  amid  scenes  and  their 
crowding  associations  which  would  give  deep  signifi- 
cance to  the  act.  There  stood  the  palace  of  the  noble 
grandsire,  Gustavus  Vasa,  and  there  his  tomb.  Hard 
by  was  the  "Old  Upsala,"  the  ancestral  abode  of  the 
Swedish  kings;  and  there  that  ancient  church  which 
was  built  out  of  the  unhallowed  fragments  of  ancient 
heathen  temples;  while  the  uneven  tumuli  that  lay 
around  were  the  legendary  graves  of  Odin,  and  Freya, 
and  Thor.  It  was  the  ruined  shrine  of  a  by-gone  wor- 
ship— the  hoary  burial-ground  of  an  extinct  creed. 
Thou  hast  a  holier  creed  to  contend  for,  young  neo- 


152  THE    "SNOW-KINa." 

phyte!  even  "that  faith  which  was  once  delivered  to 
the  saints."  Would  we  have  a  glimpse  of  our  hero,  as 
he  kneels  to  take  the  vows  at  Upsal?  His  face,  then, 
is  a  long  oval,  running  up  into  a  lofty,  but  certainly 
retreating,  forehead,  which  narrows  as  it  ascends,  until 
it  culminates  in  what  phrenologists  would  glory  in  as  a 
very  mound  of  "veneration."  The  nose  is  aquiline, 
and  finely  chiseled;  the  mouth  small  and  beautifully 
molded — though  a  pointed  beard  and  a  long  horizon- 
tal moustache  somewhat  mask  the  significance  of  this 
fine  feature.  The  brow  is  nobly  arched,  and  as  open 
as  daylight;  but  it  is  the  lofty  serenity  of  the  eye 
which  points  the  moral  of  this  grand  historic  portrait. 

The  coronation  over,  Gustavus  Adolphus  has  an 
amicable  interview  with  the  Danish  king.  They  are 
the  northern  bulwarks  of  the  Reformed  faith;  why, 
then,  should  they  not  set  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and 
thus  double  their  strength  by  unity  of  effort  ?  why  not 
"love  as  brethren?"  why  not  "be  pitiful,  be  courteous?" 
And  so,  though  they  met  as  rivals,  they  part  as  friends. 
Christian  promised  that  he  would  not  aid  the  Romish 
cousin,  Sigismund,  in  any  of  his  underhand  designs 
upon  Sweden:  for  cousin  Sigismund — son,  be  it  re- 
membered, of  Gustavus's  uncle.  King  John,  and  con- 
sequently legitimist  king  of  Sweden  (saving  for  his 
popish  disability) — was  weaving  a  disloyal  web  of 
treachery,  whereby  he  hoped  to  seize  the  tall  person 
of  his  heretical  cousin.  However,  a  timely  whisper  of 
hig' design  saved  the  young  "lion"  from  the  toils. 

One  more  little  episode  of  romance — and  then  Gus- 
tavus Adolphus  set  his  face  like  a  flint  to  confront  the 
stern  realities  of  the  times.     He  determined  to  make 


MARKIAGE   OF  GUSTAVUS.  153 

the  tour  of  Germany  in  disguise.  Who  knows  but  that 
his  eye  may  alight  unawares  upon  some  royal  lady, 
who  may  be  elected  to  take  in  his  regards  the  place 
which  he  had  resolutely  closed  against  the  youthful 
countess  ?  Yes :  at  Berlin  he  sees  a  maiden  to  whom 
his  heart  does  immediate  homage.  She  is  Maria  Eleo- 
nora,  sister  to  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg.  It  was 
rather  the  fashion  of  the  age  for  a  young  prince  to  set 
forth  in  the  disguise  of  a  knight-errant  in  search  of  a 
ladye-love.  Gustavus  made  his  tour  in  1620;  and 
three  years  later,  "Baby  Charles  and  Steenie,"  to  use 
our  James  I.'s  own  words,  "went  post  to  Spain  to  fetch 
home  the  Infanta ;"  but  on  the  road  Charles  had 
chanced  to  see  at  a  court-ball  in  Paris  the  beautiful 
Henrietta  Maria,  who  soon  consoled  him  for  the  failure 
of  his  romantic  mission  with  the  arrogant  Buckingham 
to  Madrid.'  A  further  acquaintance  with  Eleonora 
only  confirmed  the  prepossessions  of  the  Northern 
knight;  and  the  royal  nuptials  took  place  at  Stock- 
holm in  November  of  the  same  year.  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus  must  have  seen,  when  he  passed  unknown  and 
unnoticed  through  Germany,  other  things  that  touched 
his  heart  and  influenced  his  life  beside  the  Lady  Eleo- 
nora. The  Protestants  were  struggling  against  fearful 
odds,  not  only  for  freedom  of  faith,  but  for  life  itself; 
for  the  thirty  years  of  war  had  begun  to  eat  up  the 
land  like  a  famine,  and  its  lives  like  a  pestilence.  But 
he  that  did  his  neighbor  wrong  knew  not  who  it  was 
that  stood  by.  His  open  and  honest  brow  flushed  r^d 
with  indignant  sympathy — "If  I  live,"  thought  the 
gigantic  young  knight  with  the  unknown  crest — "if  I 
live  and  prosper,  so  as  to  set  my  house  in  order  at 


154  THE    "SNOW  KING." 

home,  I  will  return  and  help  my  brethren  in  the  faith." 
But  it  takes  a  long  time — it  takes  eight  troubled  years 
— to  set  the  house  of  his  kingdom  in  order,  and  to  bar 
its  doors  in  safety  against  the  Polish  aggressors. 
Sigismund  would  not  have  fought  on  in  desperation  for 
eight  wretched  years,  if  he  had  not  been  instigated  and 
supported  by  the  cabinets  of  Vienna  and  of  Madrid; 
and  so  the  war  between  Papist  and  Protestant  was 
fought  out  in  disguise  in  Courland,  Livonia,  and  Lith- 
uania, while  it  was  openly  sustained  between  the 
"Catholic  League"  and  the  "Evangelical  Union"  in 
the  desolated  Palatinate  and  in  distracted  Bohemia. 
For  eight  years  did  Sigismund  protract  the  struggle, 
in  hopes  of  crippling  Gustavus  and  of  regaining  pos- 
session of  Sweden;  although  Gustavus,  victorious 
wherever  he  turned,  again  and  again  frankly  held  out 
his  hand  with  offers  of  peace  and  accommodation. 
These  overtures  were  invariably  rejected,  until,  mis- 
fortune following  hard  upon  misfortune,  and  the  Swedes 
showing  no  signs  of  weariness  or  exhaustion,  Sigismund 
submitted  with  an  ill  grace  to  a  truce  of  six  years' 
duration,  to  expire  in  1635. 

During  the  troublous  years  of  war,  Gustavus  had 
been  earnestly  cultivating  the  happy  arts  of  peace. 
The  king  and  the  chancellor  worked  together  at  the 
finances  of  the  kingdom,  with  a  view  to  rendering 
them  more  productive,  yet  not  more  oppressive  to  the 
people ;  they  made  justice  a  more  attainable  good,  and 
l^fw  a  cheaper  luxury,  by  reforming  the  administration 
of  the  courts,  and  by  making  judges  independent  of 
the  crown;  they  fostered  mercantile  adventure,  while 
they  raised  a  good  navy.     Literature  was  patronized, 


"THE  THIRTY  YEARS*   WAR."  155 

the  university  at  Upsal  endowed  with  munificent  gifts, 
a  sister  university  founded  at  Dorp,  in  Livonia,  and  a 
Royal  Academy  given  to  his  brave  little  Finns  at  Abo. 
What  would  not  Gustavus  have  done  for  his  country, 
if  his  hand  had  not  been  so  continually  sheathed  in 
the  iron  glove  of  war  ?  Whenever  he  drew  off  that 
mailed  glove,  his  hand  was  soft  as  a  woman's,  and  as 
kindly  in  its  touch.  It  could  be  prompt  and  decisive, 
too,  in  its  movements.  For  instance :  he  had  observed 
that  the  practice  of  dueling  had  grown  into  an  enor- 
mous evil,  and  he  put  forth  severe  edicts  for  its  entire 
suppression.  But  here  come  two  fierce  generals,  whose 
quarrel  runs  so  high  that  it  may  only  be  settled  by 
this  most  heathenish  of  all  modes  of  appeal.  They 
humbly  beg  his  majesty's  permission  to  fight.  "  Cer- 
tainly, gentleman ;  and  you  must  permit  me  to  be  a  spec- 
tator of  your  lofty  courage."  He  goes  to  the  place 
of  meeting — not  alone,  but  attended  by  a  military 
suite.  There  is  one  sinister-looking  personage  in  the 
group,  who  looks  neither  courtier  nor  soldier.  "Now, 
gentlemen,"  said  the  king,  "fight,  if  you  please,  until 
one  dies;  and  ?/6>w,"  added  he,  turning  to  the  public 
executioner,  "  do  you  instantly  cut  ofi"  the  head  of  the 
other!"  Somehow  or  other,  the  quarrel  died  out  imme- 
diately; and  it  was  the  last  duel  in  the  camps  of  Gus- 
tavus. 

And  now  at  last  Gustavus  was  free  to  turn  his  eyes 
upon  the  smoking  fields  of  Germany,  where  "The 
Thirty  Years'  War"  was  living  and  raging  in  the 
thirteenth  year  of  its  age.  It  is  the  year  1630.  The 
Elector  Palatine,  that  unfortunate  Frederic  who  had 
let  go  his  hold  on  his  own  beautiful  dominions  on  the 


156  THE   "snow-king/ 

Rhine,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  catch  at  the  offered 
crown  of  Bohemia,  had  been  driven  off  the  field,  and 
had  sought  refuge  in  Holland.  The  "Evangelical 
Union,"  composed  of  the  Protestant  princes  of  Ger- 
many, had  shrunk  from '  the  side  of  their  doomed  ally 
— all  but  two  soldiers  of  fortune,  Count  Ernest  of 
Mansfeldt,  who  chose  for  his  motto,  "God's  Friend — 
Priest's  Foe,"  and  who  fulfilled  the  latter  clause,  while 
he  left  the  former  in  doubt ;  and  again,  Duke  Christian 
of  Brunswick,  who  wore  the  glove  of  Elizabeth,  Fred- 
eric's proud  English  wife,  in  his  beaver,  and  bore  on 
his  standards  the  motto,  "All  for  God — and  Her." 
The  Bavarian  general,  that  terrible  Tilly  whose  name 
still  haunts  the  moldering  ruins  of  many  a  Protestant 
castle  and  town  like  an  evil  echo,  whose  wandering 
ghost  can  never  be  laid,  had  successfully  crushed  out 
the  spirit  of  princes  and  people.  When  he  was  not 
fighting,  he  was  feeding — feeding  his  great  army  of 
locusts  upon  every  green  thing  in  the  land,  the  while 
he  sucked  the  life-blood  of  his  prostrate  victims,  and 
fanned  them  with  the  wings  of  the  Angel  of  Death. 
He  was  a  little  spare  man,  with  sunk  cheeks,  a  broad 
plowed  forehead,  a  sharp  chin,  and  a  long,  vulture-like 
nose.  A  long  red  feather,  which  drooped  from  his 
small,  high-peaked  hat,  and  hung  down  his  back,  dis- 
tinguished him  on  the  victorious  field,  or  on  the  rapid 
march,  or  in  the  flaming  streets  of  a  sacked  town.  A 
stern  and  fierce  bigot,  he  was  nevertheless  a  trusty 
servant  and  a  very  able  commander.  Tilly  was  too 
terrible  to  be  endured,  as  he  now  camped  upon  the 
Protestant  territory.  Some  of  the  ruined  princes  rose 
up  for  a  last  effort  to  shake  him  off;  and  then  Chris- 


THE   DUTY   OF   A    KING.  157 

tian  IV.  of  Denmark,  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  see- 
ing the  imperial  forces  lining  the  shores  of  the  North 
Sea,  brought  an  army  to  the  aid  of  the  Protestants. 
But  Christian,  no  match  for  Tilly,  was  baffled  and 
beaten;  and  there  was  no  hope  left  to  a  fainting  and 
failing  cause.     No  hope?     Wait  and  see. 

There  is  a  high-souled  hero,  under  the  cold  skies  of 
the  North,  with  firm  brow  and  serene  eye,  calmly  buck- 
ling on  the  armor  which  he  had  just  laid  aside.  He  is 
only  now  wiping  his  forehead  from  the  dust  of  the  eight 
years'  war  with  Poland,  into  which  he  had  been  so  un- 
willingly dragged,  and  from  which  he  had  so  gladly 
and  successfully  emerged.  His  counselors  are  seek- 
ing to  dissuade  him  from  the  rash  enterprise  on  which 
he  is  bent,  and  this  is  his  quiet  reply,  the  while  he 
makes  ready:  "I  know,  as  well  as  any  man  among  my 
subjects,  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  such  an  under- 
taking ;  yet  neither  the  wealth  of  the  house  of  Austria 
dismays  me,  nor  her  veteran  force.  My  soldiers  are 
accustomed  to  temperance,  frugality,  and  virtue;  and 
my  brave  troops  shall  never  want  their  daily  food, 
though  we  carry  it  to  them  all  the  way  from  Sweden. 
And  if  it  be  the  will  of  God  that  Gustavus  should  die, 
he  will  do  so  with  thankful  acquiescence.  It  is  a 
king's  duty,  and  his  religion  too,  to  obey  the  great 
King  of  kings  without  a  murmur."  What  could  be 
said  in  reply  to  such  words?  And  then  he  turned 
round  and  "set  his  house  in  order,  like  a  dying  man." 
The  government  of  the  country  was  intrusted  to  a 
Council  of  State.  Axel  Oxenstiern,  the  beloved  chan- 
cellor, must  not  stay  at  home  to  care  for  the  stuff,  be- 
cause his  genius  is  imperatively  called  for  elsewhere; 

14 


158    '  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

and  Axel  Oxenstiern  is  posted  with  10,000  men  in 
Prussia,  to  watch  and  restrain  the  movements  of  the 
Polish  cousin.  Thirty  men-of-war  and  200  transport- 
ships  are  ready  to  carry  15,000  veteran  Swedes  to. 
Germany.  Fifteen  thousand  Swedes — and  no  more — 
to  reconquer  for  Protestantism  its  dying  liberties ;  to 
wrestle  for  the  life  and  freedom  of  millions  with  the 
giant  power  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg;  to  meet  the 
withering  anathema  of  the  Vatican,  the  intrigues  of 
Madrid,  and  the  lethargic  despair  of  the  "Evangelical 
Union?"  Only  fifteen  thousand  Swedes — and  their 
king. 

On  the  20th  of  May,  1630,  Gustavus  Adolphus 
walked  into  the  "Riddar-huus,"  hung  round  about 
with  its  shields  of  the  Swedish  nobles,  to  bid  a  solemn 
farewell  to  the  Estates  of  his  kingdom.  His  little 
daughter,  Christina,  is  held  in  his  strozig  arms.  She 
is  only  four  years  of  age ;  but  he  presents  her  to  the 
assembled  Diet  as  their  future  mistress,  the  heir  of  his 
throne  and  of  his  heart.  He  asks  the  States  to  renew 
the  oath  of  allegiance  which  they  had  already  taken 
when  she  lay  an  unconscious  infant  in  her  cradle: 
^^And  this,'^  said  he,  "m  case  I  should  never  return." 
And  then  he  read  the  ordinances  of  his  government 
for  the  period  of  his  absence,  or  for  the  minority  of  his 
child.  Then  he  paused :  he  was  about  to  speak  a  few 
farewell  words,  but  the  strong  man  shook,  and  the 
voice  came  not.  They  say  that  the  whole  assembly 
was  dissolved  into  one  irresistible  gush  of  tears.  At 
last  Gustavus  mastered  his  prophetic  emotion:  "Not 
lightly  or  wantonly  am  I  about  to  involve  myself  and 
you  in  dangerous  war.     God  is  my  witness   that  I 


THE  SOLEMN  FAREWELL. 
'And  thi^"  said  he,  "in  case  I  should  never  return." — Page  158. 


FAREWELL   TO   SWEDEN.  159 

do  not  fight  to  gratify  my  own  ambition.  But  the  em- 
peror has  shamefully  wronged  me  in  the  person  of  my 
embassador;  he  has  supported  my  enemies,  persecuted 
my  friends  and  brethren,  trampled  my  religion  in  the 
dust,  and  even  stretched  his  revengeful  arm  against 
my  crown.  The  oppressed  States  of  Germany  call 
loudly  for  aid,  which,  by  God's  help,  we  will  give  them. 
Hitherto,  Providence  has  wonderfully  protected  me; 
but  I  shall  at  last  fall  in  defense  of  my  country.  I 
commend  you  to  the  protection  of  Heaven."  He  then 
severally  addressed  each  division  of  his  audience,  giv- 
ing excellent  counsel,  and  praying  that  God  might  en- 
lighten them  with  his  wisdom  and  crown  them  with  his 
blessing.  "And  now  I  bid  you  all  an  earnest,  it  may 
be  an  eternal,  farewell."  An  immense  multitude  of 
his  people  attended  their  beloved  king  to  Elfsknaben, 
where  his  fleet  rode  at  anchor;  and  the  enthusiasm  for 
the  cause  was  so  great,  the  confidence  in  the  leader  so 
unquestioning,  that  there  was  scarce  a  man  in  Sweden 
— a  little  primitive  Lapp,  or  a  hardy  Finn — who  would 
have  shrunk  from  his  master's  side  as  he  stepped  on 
ship- board.  The  fleet  sailed  amid  the  acclaims  and  the 
prayers  of  a  whole  nation.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of 
June  it  touched  shore  at  the  Isle  of  Rugen  on  the 
coast  of  Pomerania.  Gustavus  Adolphus  was  the  first 
to  spring  to  land;  and  there  he  knelt,  in  presence  of 
the  whole  fleet,  to  return  thanks  for  the  safe  arrival  of 
his  army  on  the  shores  of  Germany.  He  was  kneeling 
on  that  interesting  island  whose  wooded  ravines  and 
little  shadowy  lake  were  once  sacred  to  the  worship  of 
the  heathen  goddess  Hertha. 

Pomerania  was   speedily  overrun   by  the  Swedish 


160  THE    "SNOWtKING." 

host,  its  master  scrupulously  paying  his  Tvay  as  he 
went,  and  carefully  protecting  all  private  property. 
This  system  was  a  startling  novelty,  after  the  horrible 
excesses  of  Tilly,  and  even  the  free  quarters  of  Ernest 
of  Mansfeldt  and  Christian  of  Brunswick.  A  con- 
temptuous laugh  rang  round  the  Cabinet  of  Vienna: 
"The  Snow-King  is  come,"  they  cried;  "but  he  can 
only  live  in  the  North:  he  will  melt  away  as  soon  as 
he  feels  the  sun."  Tilly's  hawk's  eye,  however,  saw 
further  into  the  material  of  which  the  Northern  hero 
was  made.  "That  man  is  dangerous,"  said  the  old 
marshal  to  his  gloomy  master,  Ferdinand  of  Austria; 
"Ae  is  a  player  from  whom  we  gain  much  if  we  merely 
lose  nothing."  And  so  Tilly's  red  feather  was  soon 
seen  streaming  behind  him  as  he  hurried  northward 
at  the  head  of  30,000  veterans;  for  the  imperialist 
garrisons  were  everywhere  retiring  before  the  Swede. 
Another  man — and  he  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
of  that  fruitful  age — had  early  discovered  the  charac- 
ter and  intentions  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  That  man 
was  Albrecht  Wallenstein.  He  was  born  in  1583;  the 
son  of  a  German  baron.  If  Tilly  were  trained  as  a 
Jesuit,  and  then  turned  soldier,  Wallenstein  was  born 
a  Protestant,  and  then  embraced  the  Romish  creed. 
He  was  the  very  genius  of  war,  and  the  incarnation  of 
unscrupulous  ambition.  Faithful  to  the  house  of  Haps- 
burg,  when  he  could  be  faithful  to  his  own  aggrandize- 
ment, he  kissed  his  hand  to  his  own  star,  believed  in 
his  own  great  destiny,  and  walked  alone  in  the  light  of 
his  own  imperious  soul.  Haughty  and  reserved  to  his 
equals,  and  to  the  men  who  called  themselves  superiors, 
he  took  no  one  into  his  counsels  but  Seni,  his  Italian 


WALLENSTEIN.  161 

astrologer,  and  had  no  friends  but  the  adoring  soldiery 
whom  he  led  to  victory  and  loosed  to  plunder.  When 
Ferdinand  awhile  since  had  felt  anxiously  around  his 
coffers  and  found  them  empty,  Wallenstein,  now  im- 
mensely rich  with  the  confiscated  estates  of  Bohemian 
Protestants,  had  offered  to  raise,  clothe,  and  support 
an  army  of  50,000  men  at  his  own  expense.  The  em- 
peror was  thankful  for  the  princely  aid ;  but  the  servant 
was  henceforth  independent  of  the  master:  too  power- 
ful to  be  trusted,  too  great  to  be  set  at  naught.  More- 
over, Albrecht  Wallenstein  was  mortally  jealous  of  John 
Tilly.  He  had  succeeded  in  gathering  together,  not 
50,000,  but  100,000  men,  who  fed  and  reveled  in  the 
land,  trampling  down  what  they  could  not  consume, 
and  burning  and  slaying  where  they  could  not  carry 
away ;  till  the  cry,  an  exceeding  great  and  bitter  cry, 
rose  up  to  heaven  against  them.  Thus  Wallenstein 
flourished,  while  Germany  withered  away.  And  at 
last  Ferdinand,  pressed  by  the  angry  remonstrances 
of  his  injured  friends,  dismissed  his  imperious  servant. 
"The  emperor  is  betrayed,"  said  Wallenstein,  with 
haughty  self-possession,  when  the  imperial  delegates 
communicated  to  him  his  disgrace;  "I  pity,  but  I  for- 
give him.  I  grieve  that  with  so  much  weakness  he  has 
sacrificed  me;  but  I  obey."  Calm  words,  but  war  and 
revenge  were  in  his  heart.  And  then  Seni  shut  him- 
self up  in  the  mystic  "star-chamber"  of  his  unhal- 
lowed science,  and  cast  a  fresh  horoscope  for  his 
offended  lord.  The  offended  lord  retired  to  his  mag- 
nificent domains,  lived  with  the  pomp  and  with  the 
vast  attendance  of  an  Eastern  sultan,  closed  his  firm 
lips — and  never  smiled.     Tall,  thin,  sallow,  his  impene- 

14* 


162  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

trable  face  lighted  by  small,  keen  eyes,  and  surrounded 
with  short,  red  hair,  he  waited  in  portentous  silence 
until  the  successes  of  the  Swedish  hero  should  make 
his  humbled  kaiser  press  again  into  his  hand  the 
baton  of  command.  It  was  needful  to  give  a  some- 
what lengthened  portrait  of  the  remarkable  man  with 
whom,  as  well  as  with  the  impetuous  Tilly,  the  "Snow- 
King"  from  the  far  North  must  wrestle  for  the  liberties 
of  Europe. 

Wallenstein,  Duke  of  Friedland,  having  sullenly 
retired  within  his  silent  palace  in  Prague,  where  whole 
streets  were  blocked  up  with  chains,  lest  some  imperti- 
nent noise  might  offend  his  deep  abstractions,  and 
where  the  sycophants  at  his  levees  used  to  bind  their 
spurs  with  silken  twist,  lest  they  should  jingle  in  his 
sublime  ear,  another  generalissimo  was  required:  and 
the  rival  Tilly  received  the  command.  But  Gustavus, 
meanwhile,  is  marching  through  Pomerania  and  Meck- 
lenburg; and  the  walls  of  one  strong  town  after 
another  are  falling  before  him.  Will  nothing  arrest 
his  steps?  Surely  the  winter  of  this  year  (1630 — 
1631)  will  stop  the  intruders?  By  no  means;  they 
are  furnished  with  dresses  of  sheepskin;  and  thus 
equipped,  the  shapeless  Northmen  can  take  the  field  in 
January  as  in  June.  "A  truce:  that  we  may  retire 
into  winter  quarters,"  pleaded  the  imperial  emissaries. 
"The  Swedes  are  soldiers  in  winter  as  well  as  in 
summer,"  replied  the  "Snow-King,"  from  within  his 
royal  robes. 

The  utmost  frugality  prevailed  in  the  Swedish  camp ; 
neither  gold  nor  silver  glittered  even  in  the  royal  tent. 
All  irregularities  were  severely  punished;    gambling, 


A   SCHOOL   FOR   HEROES.  163 

theft,  swearing,  and  other  vices  were  wholly  sup- 
pressed; every  regiment  had  its  chaplain:  morning  and 
evening  the  men  were  commanded  to  form  a  ring  round 
their  several  ministers  for  prayer;  schools  for  teaching 
the  young  members  of  this  marvelous  community  were 
opened  day  by  day,  just  as  in  the  reposeful  quiet  of  a 
country  village  in  Sudermania  or  Dalarne;  and  as 
soon  as  the  brave  travelers  began  to  intrench  them- 
selves, the  young  folks  retired  to  their  own  most 
peaceable  quarter,  their  own  academy  of  the  lines.  It 
is  recorded  that  a  cannon-ball  one  day  bounded  into 
the  school,  and  killed  two  or  three  young  students  in  a 
moment.  But  not  a  pen  shook,  nor  book  dropped,  nor 
cheek  flushed  or  paled,  in  the  school  of  the  Northern 
heroes.  All  this  reads  like  an  extravagant  romance, 
outraging  all  probabilities,  and  provoking  the  smile  of 
incredulity.  But  it  is  honest  truth-telling  history,  never- 
theless ;  though  one  of  history's  most  marvelous  pages. 
In  the  mean  time,  Magdeburg  had  declared  for 
Gustavus — Magdeburg,  which  presently  afterward  pur- 
chased by  its  sufferings  the  indignant  sympathies  of 
Europe.  The  terrible  man  with  the  vulture-like  face, 
the  slashed  Spanish  doublet  of  green  satin,  and  the 
red  feather  hanging  down  his  back,  is  before  its  walls. 
It  was  one  of  the  strongest,  richest,  most  flourishing 
cities  in  all  Germany.  The  Swedish  deliverer  was 
within  three  days  march  of  Magdeburg,  and  all  eyes 
within  the  beleaguered  walls  were  eagerly  sweeping  the 
horizon  in  the  direction  where  the  Swedish  standards 
should  appear.  Tilly's  keen  eye,  from  the  outside, 
was  anxiously  turned  the  same  way;  and  he  determ- 
ined to  hurry  onward  the  preparations  for  a  general 


164  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

assault  before  help  could  come  to  the  doomed  city. 
That  assault  was  successful  at  every  point ;  and  then, 
for  four  days,  was  enacted  a  tragedy  which  has  scarcely 
a  parallel  in  all  history.  When  the  hideous  work  was 
over  and  done,  (and  it  is  far  too  horrible  for  descrip- 
tion,) the  man  with  the  long,  sanguinary  plume  rode 
through  the  smoking  and  steaming  city,  in  order  to  be 
able  to  report  to  his  lord  that  no  such  feat  had  been 
performed  "since  the  razing  of  Jerusalem  or  the  sack 
of  Troy."  There  were  a  few  houses  still  standing 
amid  the  charred  heaps  of  the  30,000  corpses;  and 
fortunately  the  cathedral  and  one  other  church  had 
resisted  the  flames,  so  that  mass  could  be  comfortably 
performed,  and  a  "Te  Deum"  satisfactorily  sung  for 
this  triumphant  success,  while  the  imperial  artillery 
threw  in  its  appropriate  accompaniment. 

Gustavus  had  now  been  a  year  in  Germany.  One 
Protestant  prince  after  another  had  ventured  to  stand 
by  his  side.  The  czar  had  sent  embassadors  from 
Moscow,  to  congratulate,  to  renew  alliances,  and  to 
offer  troops.  Queen  Maria  Eleonora  landed  in  re- 
joicing Pomerania  with  a  reinforcement  of  8000  enthu- 
siastic Swedes;  and  the  Marquis  of  Hamilton  brought 
over  6000  English,  with  a  host  of  excellent  Scottish 
officers — Mackays,  and  Leslies,  and  Munroes.  But 
Gustavus  and  Tilly  have  never  yet  met  face  to  face; 
they  will  meet  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  September, 
1631.  Tilly  was  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  Leipsic, 
his  army  drawn  up  on  and  under  the  heights  which 
command  the  plain  of  Breitenfeld.  On  that  "Broad 
field,"  before  the  hills  which  stretch  toward  Lindenthal, 
beside  the  little  River  Lober,  was  to  be  decided  that 


GOD  With  us.  165 

day  the  fate  of  the  Swedes,  and  the  life  or  death  of 
their  cause.  The  numbers  are  not  very  unequal :  it  is 
the  cause  that  makes  the  difference.  The  Saxons  are 
with  Gustavus,  and  are  posted  on  his  left.  The  king 
leads  his  own  right  in  person,  in  a  plain  gray  dress, 
with  a  single  green  plume  on  his  head.  He  finds  him- 
self immediately  confronting  the  famous  Count  Pap- 
penheim.  They  number  somewhere  about  35,000  men 
on  each  side.  When  Gustavus  had  completed  all  his 
dispositions,  he  walked  out  before  the  whole  line  of  his 
arrayed  host,  uncovered  his  head,  kneeled  down,  and 
prayed  that  God  would  defend  the  right.  A  deep 
murmur  ran  through  the  whole  army :  it  was  the  simple 
word  "Amen."  "God  with  us!"  was  the  chosen  cry 
of  the  Swede: — "  Jesu-Maria  !"  the  imperial  watch- 
word. But  Tilly's  intrepidity  had  deserted  him  that 
day ;  his  power  of  rapid  resolve  was  gone ;  they  say  it 
was  the  ghost  of  Magdeburg  that  hovered  about  his 
brow,  and  darkened  his  «yes  so  that  he  could  not  see ! 
The  Swedes  were  everywhere  triumphant;  they  even 
carried  the  heights,  and  turned  all  Tilly's  guns  on  his 
own  veterans.  Tilly,  wounded,  exhausted,  and  well- 
nigh  heart-broken  at  his  disgrace,  fled  to  Halle,  with 
only  600  fugitives  around  him,  while  the  impetuous 
Pappenheim  could  rally  but  1400  more.  These  fright- 
ened runaways  were  the  wreck  of  that  invincible  army 
which  had  made  Germany  tremble.  And  so  ended  the 
battle  of  Leipsic ;  to  be  surpassed  in  fame  by  that  tre- 
mendous struggle,  one  hundred  and  eighty-two  years 
further  on  in  history,  when  Napoleon  failed  and  Ponia- 
towski  fell ;  that  great  fight  which  the  Germans  call 
the  "Yblkerschlacht,"  the  "Battle  of  the  Nations." 


166  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

Gustavus  marches  on  over  the  land;  the  Swedish 
colors  are  waving  from  towns  and  fortresses  all  along 
the  course  of  the  Main:  Wurzburg  is  his;  Marien- 
burg,  Erankfort,  Mayence,  all  Franconia,  and  the 
whole  Palatinate  of  the  Rhine.  The  Spaniards  and 
the  troops  of  Lorraine  fled  away  across  the  historic 
Rhine,  and  its  beautiful  tributary,  the  Moselle;  and 
even  Munich  itself  saw  the  "Snow-King"  housed  .a 
the  forsaken  palace  of  Maximilian  of  Bavaria.  The 
emperor  knew  not  how  long  he  might  be  safe  within 
the  walls  of  Vienna  itself.  But  where  is  Tilly  ?  Chafed 
with  his  humiliating  defeat  at  Leipsic,  and  eager  to 
disprove  his  inferiority  to  the  Northern  hero,  he  had 
collected  another  army,  and  had  followed  up  the  track 
of  the  king  as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Lech,  the  river 
which  marks  the  western  frontier  of  Bavaria.  And 
there  Gustavus  faced  him  once  more.  Tilly  occupied 
an  extremely  strong  position,  on  an  arc  formed  by  a 
bend  of  the  river,  which,  swollen  by  the  melting  of  the 
Tyrolean  snows,  foamed  angrily  between  its  steep 
banks.  It  is  now  the  3d  of  April,  1632.  The  black 
mouths  of  Tilly's  guns  are  making  ready  to  speak  from 
the  opposite  shore.  A  group  of  gray- haired  Swedish 
generals,  Gustavus  Horn  at  their  head,  came  around 
the  king,  to  entreat  him  to  shun  the  extreme  peril 
of  crossing,  with  such  hopeless  odds  against  them. 
"What!"  cried  the  king,  "shall  we,  who  have  crossed 
the  Baltic,  the  Oder,  the  Rhine,  the  Danube,  turn  back 
from  a  brook  like  the  Lech?"  He  instantly  planted 
his  guns,  masked  his  movements  by  the  smoke  of  a 
great  fire  of  wood  and  wet  straw,  hastily  made  a  bridge, 
and  crossed  the  Lech,  after  having  first  gained  another 


DEATH    OF   TILLY.  167 

great  victory  over  Tilly  and  Maximilian  by  means  of 
his  guns  from  the  further  shore.  In  that  lost  battle 
Tilly  received  his  death-wound :  he  was  carried  from 
the  field,  and  died  a  few  days  afterward  in  Ingoldstadt. 
And  then  came  the  triumphant  entrance  into  the  palace 
of  Maximilian  at  Munich. 

This  is  the  hour  for  which  the  haughty  Wallenstein 
has  been  waiting  within  the  silent  inclosure  of  his 
magnificent  retirement.  Here  comes  an  embassy  from 
his  humbled  kaiser,  who  knows  in  his  secret  mind  that 
in  all  Europe  there  is  but  one  man  who  can  save  him ; 
and  that  man  he  has  mortally  ofiended.  Never  did 
Albrecht  Wallenstein  bury  a  dead  injury  out  of  his 
sight :  it  was  always  embalmed  as  a  precious  memorial, 
and  kept  in  the  dark  hall  of  his  memory.  Ferdinand 
knew  not  that  the  gloomy  owner  of  the  six-gated  palace 
in  old  Prague  had  already  been  tampering  with  the 
Swede,  for  dear  vengeance'  sake.  He  knew  not  that 
the  open-browed  Northern  had  given  a  cold  and  cau- 
tious reception  to  the  suspicious  overture,  because  he 
mistrusted  the  good  faith  of  a  traitor,  and  in  his  serene 
honesty  always  called  Wallenstein  "That  Madman." 
And  so  here  was  another  debt  that  must  sooner  or 
later  be  paid  to  the  proud  despot.  How  then  does  he 
receive  the  anxious  embassage  from  Vienna?  He  ex- 
patiates upon  the  sweetness  of  a  peaceful  retirement — 
upon  the  precious  luxuries  of  repose.  "Too  long,"  he 
said,  "had  he  tasted  the  blessings  of  ease  and  independ- 
ence, to  sacrifice  them  to  the  uncertain  favor  of  princes. 
Glory  was  but  a  phantom — tranquillity  the  desire  of 
his  soul."  At  last,  with  a  stately  condescension,  just 
out  of  compassion  for  his  suppliant  master,  he  agrees 


168  THE    "SNOW-KING." 

to  accept  the  unlimited  command  for  three  months — 
"just  for  three  months."  His  great  name  is  sufficient: 
and  in  a  few  weeks  40,000  men  have  flocked  to  his 
well-known  standard.  The  three  months  expire;  and 
he  ostentatiously  returns  his  baton  of  command.  "  Keep 
it — keep  it — I  entreat  thee;  nay,  I  command!"  — 
"Then  these  are  my  conditions" — and  Wallenstein 
presents  a  paper,  in  which  were  stipulated  his  own 
arrogant  terms  :  "  That  he  should  have  the  whole  un- 
controlled command  of  all  the  German  armies  of  Aus- 
tria and  of  Spain,  with  unlimited  power  to  reward  and 
to  punish ;  that  there  should  be  no  imperial  authority 
within  his  camp ;  no  peace  to  be  concluded  without  his 
consent ;  that  he  should  have  the  sovereignty  over  such 
provinces  as  he  should  conquer ;  an  imperial  hereditary 
estate  to  be  assigned  to  him  for  pay,  with  the  promise 
of  the  Duchy  of  Mecklenburg  in  the  event  of  peace." 
So  humbled  is  Austria,  that  Ferdinand  must  e'en  ac- 
cept from  his  own  servant  these  unheard-of  conditions ; 
and  forthwith  this  tremendous  imperium  in  imperio  is 
sanctioned.  Endowed  thus  with  irresistible  power,  the 
mighty  Wallenstein  walks  forth  to  confront  the  invinci- 
ble Gustavus.  The  Romish  cause  is  alive  again.  The  old 
star  of  Wallenstein  is  again  in  the  ascendant ;  and  surely 
the  fitful  "Northern  Lights"  must  pale  before  it. 

Everything  is  now  closing  in  around  the  mournful 
plain  of  Liitzen,  every  line  is  converging  to  that 
one  point.  It  is  the  early  morning  of  the  6th  of  No- 
vember, 1632;  but  the  day,  as  if  unwilling  to  break 
upon  the  fatal  scene,  vails  itself  in  impenetrable  mists, 
and  the  confronting  hosts  watch,  and  wait.  The  fog 
withdraws  at  noon;   and  then  Gustavus,  as  was  his 


BATTLE  OF  LUTZEN.  169 

wont,  kneels  down  in  front  of  the  lines,  and  prays  his 
accustomed  prayers.  His  whole  array  drops  also  on 
their  knees,  and  then  chants  a  solemn  hymn.  It  was 
that  fine  hymn  of  Altenburg,  written  on  occasion  of  the 
battle  of  Leipsic,  and  this  is  its  concluding  stanza: — 

"Amen,  Lord  Jesus,  grant  our  prayer  ! 
Great  Captain,  now  Thine  arm  make  bare ; 

Fight  for  us  once  again  ! 
So  shall  thy  saints  and  martyrs  raise 
A  mighty  chorus  to  thy  praise, 

World  without  end.    Amen." 

And  the  voice  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  mingled  with  the 
voices  of  his  people.  Then  the  king  mounts  his 
charger,  and  rides  along  his  lines.  He  wears  no  armor 
this  day,  for  he  had  been  wounded;  and  a  leathern 
doublet  is  his  slight  defense.'  Again,  "God  with  us!" 
is  the  word  of  the  Swedes;  "Jesu-Maria!"  the  cry  of 
the  Austrians.  Victory  all  that  day  wavered  along 
the  struggling  lines,  swaying  to  and  fro,  as  if  irreso- 
lute where  to  alight.  There  was  victory  wherever 
Gustavus  appeared;  and  there  was  seeming  victory 
again  wherever  Wallenstein  rallied  his  shaken  force. 
At  last  news  reached  the  king  that  his  left  wing  was 
beginning  to  yield,  just  when  he  had  broken  the  Croats 
and  Poles,  and  was  following  up  his  success.  He  in- 
stantly galloped  away  to  the  left  to  support  his  sorely- 
pressed  infantry;  and  the  noble  charger,  in  his  blind 
zeal,  carries  his  beloved  master  so  far  in  advance  of 
the  men  he  is  leading  to  the  rescue,  as  to  place  him 
almost  alone  in  the  front  of  the  enemy.  The  king's 
ov,n  shortness  of  sight  prevents  him  from  seeing  his 
mistake,  until — too  late !     He  turns  to  reconnoiter  the 

15 


170  THE   "SNOW-KING." 

Austrian  lines,  when  an  imperial  officer  of  subordinate 
rank  sajs  to  a  musketeer,  "Fire  at  him^  yonder;  that 
must  be  a  man  of  consequence."  The  musketeer  takes 
aim,  and  the  king's  left  arm  drops  by  his  side.  Then 
up  comes  his  outridden  squadron,  and  there  is  a  cry  of 
agony  among  them :  "  The  king  bleeds !  The  king  is 
shot!"  "It  is  nothing — follow  me!"  cries  the  king: 
but,  see — ^he  is  near  fainting ;  and  turning  to  a  dark 
man  who  has  been  riding  all  day  at  his  side,  he  says  in 
French,  "Lead  me  away  unobserved."  That  dark  man 
is  Francis  Albert,  Duke  of  Lauenburg.  "What  is  he 
doing  there,  close  as  a  shadow  to  the  king,  haunting 
him  like  a  spirit  of  evil  ?  A  horrible  suspicion,  a  mis- 
shapen doubt,  clings  to  the  name  of  that  man.  Who 
is  he?  An  old  corrosive  hate  has  been  rusting  in  his 
mind  against  Gustavus,  because  of  some  slight  offense 
received  at  the  Swedish  Court  long  time  ago.  He  has 
since  then  been  in  the  service  of  Austria;  he  is  an  in- 
timate of  Wallenstein.  Strange  to  say,  he  had  sud- 
denly quitted  the  Austrian  service,  and  had  volunteered 
to  serve  Gustavus.  "Beware  of  the  new-comer,"  said 
Axel  Oxenstiern  to  his  dear  lord;  but  the  king  was 
above  suspicion,  and  made  the  man  his  friend.  This  is  he 
who  is  now  leading  the  king  aside  because  of  his  shat- 
tered arm.  See  !  he  makes  a  wide  sweep  behind  the 
contending  infantry — and  just  then  Gustavus  receives 
a  shot  through  the  back.  "Brother,"  he  says,  with  the 
voice  of  a  dying  man,  "brother,  I  have  enough  I  Look 
only  to  your  own  life."  More  shots  follow,  and  he 
drops  from  his  charger,  which  rushes,  stained  and 
riderless,  among  the  Swedes,  spreading  everywhere 
the  astounding  news.     And  then  his  men,  frantic  with 


GUSTAVUS   DIES.  171 

grief,  rush  to  the  spot;  but  the  terrible  Croats  are 
there  already,  and  have  begun  to  pillagorwhile  Gus- 
tavus  yet  lives.  He  has  spoken,  and  said,  "I  am  the 
King  of  Sweden;  and  I  seal  with  my  blood  the  liber- 
ties of  the  German  nation."  Another  thrust  from  a 
sword;  and  with  the  words,  "My  God!  my  God! 
Alas,  my  poor  queen!"  dies  Gustavus  Adolphus. 

His  Swedes  fight  for  the  possession  of  the  poor  man- 
gled corpse,  until  it  is  literally  buried^buried  under  a 
mound  of  the  slain.  And  where  is  Francis  Albert, 
Duke  of  Lauenburg?  He  is  the  first  that  whispers 
the  great  news  into  the  thrilling  ear  of  Wallenstein ! 
It  was  said  that  he  escaped  the  fire  of  the  imperialists 
by  showing  a  green  scarf,  the  color  of  the  empire.  The 
intrepid  Bernard,  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  then  took  the 
command  of  the  Swedes,  and  worked  out  with  them 
their  mournful  and  costly  victory.  Pappenheim,  on 
the  side  of  Austria,  brought  up  a  fresh  detachment 
while  the  fight  of  Lutzen  was  still  raging  in  its  fury; 
and  Pappenheim,  the  flower  of  Austrian  chivalry,  fell 
on  the  same  field  as  the  great  Gustavus.  But  Wallen- 
stein ?  Wallenstein  lived  to  die  by  an  assassin's  hand 
two  years  later.  And  what  did  Ferdinand  thereon  ? 
Ferdinand  dowered  the  assassin  with  dignities  and 
estates,  with  golden  chains  of  reward  and  golden  keys 
of  office ;  but  he  likewise  dropped  an  imperial  tear,  and 
commanded  that  three  thousand  masses  should  be  said 
for  the  good  of  his  servant's  soul.  And  the  queen  of 
Gustavus — the  loving  Maria  Eleonora?  He  had  parted 
with  her  at  Erfurt,  with  such  moving  farewells  as 
seemed  to  forebode  the  issue.  She  saw  her  lord 
again;    and   it  was  at  Weissenfels.      They  drew  the 


172  THE  "snow-king." 

body,  after  long  and  anxious  search,  from  beneath  the 
heaped-up  slain.  They  knew  it  first  by  its  great  stat- 
ure; for  it  was  so  trampled  and  dinted  by  the  horses' 
hoofs,  that  the  weeping  soldiers  scarce  knew  their  mas- 
ter's face.  He  bore  eight  wounds — five  gun-shot 
wounds,  two  cuts,  and  one  stab.  The  doublet  was 
gone:  it  was  plundered  by  the  Croats,  and  sent  off  to 
Vienna  as  the  greatest  trophy  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War.  And  it  was  thus  that  the  Lady  Eleonora  saw 
her  lord  at  Weissenfels,  while  the  veteran  generals 
stood  around  in  speechless  grief. 

He  was  but  thirty-eight  years  of  age;  but  the  Ger- 
mans, half  jealous  of  the  glory  of  their  deliverer,  think 
it  was  good  for  his  fame  that  he  thus  died  at  noonday. 
They  think  he  would  never  have  been  satisfied  to  return 
from  his  wondrous  crusade  a  simple  king  of  Sweden,  a 
chivalrous  and  high-souled  defender  of  the  faith ! 
"Doubtless,"  say  they,  "he  aimed  at  displacing  Fer- 
dinand, and  would  have  sat  as  kaiser  on  his  throne." 
"Doubtless,"  say  other  moralists,  more  generous  in 
their  tone,  "his  God  delivered  him  from  a  great  tempt- 
ation." But  the  lover  of  great  men  and  good,  as  he 
stands  under  the  poplars  that  shadow  the  great  "  Schwe- 
denstein,"  ("Stone  of  the  Swede,")  which  marks  the 
spot  where  he  fell,  will  think  only  of  his  virtues,  and 
mourn  for  him  as  for  a  friend.  That  rude  block  of 
unshaped  granite  is  one  of  those  remarkable  boulders 
(mysterious  travelers  they,  impelled  by  unknown  forces) 
which  would  seem  to  have  swept  down  from  the  far 
Scandinavian  hills,  to  rest  as  strangers  on  the  plains 
of  Germany.  A  fitting  monument  this  for  the  great 
Scandinavian  hero. 


SCENES  IN   THE   LIFE 


WILLIAM    THE    SILENT, 


15* 


SCENES    IN    THE    LIFE 

OP 

WILLIAM    THE    SILENT. 


If  the  republic  of  Venice  sprang  from  the  sea  with 
the  marvelous  growth  of  the  coral  isle,  and  reared 
upon  her  mysterious  roots,  as  soon  as  they  rose  above 
the  wash  of  the  waves,  palaces  for  the  merchant- 
princes  of  the  earth,  the  remarkable  cluster  of  prov- 
inces, so  appropriately  known  as  the  Low  Countries, 
bravely  built  out  the  sea  with  mound  and  causeway, 
and  then  reared  upon  the  reclaimed  marsh-land  the 
broad  quays  and  great  warehouses  of  a  world's  com- 
merce. The  amphibious  people  who  dwelt  behind  these 
marine  mud-banks  had  brought  with  them  out  of  their 
native  German  soil  the  roots  of  German  character,  and 
the  seeds  of  German  institutions.  The  Frisii,  the 
Belgae,  and  the  Batavi  were  very  brave  "barbarians" 
in  the  Roman  period.  They  were  spirited  horsemen ; 
for  the  Flemish  steed  was  thought  something  of  even 
at  that  early  day.  They  were  courageous  and  trust- 
worthy, and  were  therefore  selected  to  furnish  the 
body-guard  of  the  Roman  emperor  of  the  day.  They 
would  swim  across  the  Danube,  when  out  on  service, 
just  like  alligators,  whose  habits  of  life  closely  resem- 

(175) 


176  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

bled  their  own ;  and  when  Agricola  came  over  to  sub- 
due our  own  island,  the  Batavians  formed  an  excellent 
"army-corps,"  whose  education,  as  a  nation  of  "nav- 
vies," would  peculiarly  qualify  them  for  assisting  in  the 
construction  of  the  massive  Roman  works.  In  the 
eighth  century,  Charles  Martel  was  perpetually  "ham- 
mering" at  Friesland,  whereby  he  at  last  broke  up  a 
road  for  the  entrance  of  Christianity;  and  the  mighty 
Charlemagne  afterward  united  the  several  provinces 
under  his  broad  imperial  rule.  But  the  Netherlanders 
soon  began  to  assert  the  rights  of  their  true  calling  as 
the  merchants  and  traders  of  the  world.  They  coasted 
along  the  shores  of  Britain,  brought  back  wool,  and 
wove  it  into  the  Flanders  cloth  for  the  doublet  of  the 
stout  German  burgher  and  the  cloak  of  the  ruffling 
French  cavalier.  The  ship-captain  had  no  compass  to 
steer  by;  but  he  swept  round  by  the  northernmost 
cape  of  Russia,  quietly  saluting  the  North  Pole  with 
a  grave  nod  as  he  passed.  And  when  the  showy  and 
impetuous  Charles  the  Bold  of  Burgundy  established 
himself  as  suzerain  over  the  provinces,  he  could  only 
claim  to  be  the  first  citizen  in  a  jealous  republic;  while 
he  lent  the  sanction  of  his  redoubtable  flag  to  the  ships 
which  brought  the  wealth  of  India  from  the  ports  of 
the  Levant,  ■  after  its  long  overland  journey  on  camel- 
back.  In  the  sixteenth  century  Antwerp  was  known 
as  the  busiest  city  in  Christendom,  and  withal  the  most 
prosperous.  The  flax  which  afterward  made  the  Hol- 
land shirtings  so  famous  was  growing  in  the  fields ;  the 
comfortable  cattle  were  multiplying  in  the  rich  pas- 
tures ;  the  corn-fields  were  waving  amid  the  net-work  of 
intersecting  canals;  and  ships  were  floating  up  to  the 


ORIGIN    OF    BILLS.  177 

broad  quays  of  the  inland  cities,  to  be  laden  with  the 
goodly  manufactures  of  Flanders  and  Brabant,  for  the 
bazaars  of  Persia  and  Arabia,  and  the  markets  of  dis- 
tant Ind.  A  great  commerce  in  bills  sprang  up  to 
meet  the  necessities  of  money  exchange;  and  the  great 
trading  houses  of  Italy  and  Germany  had  their 
branches  in  the  Low  Countries,  with  their  Fuggers, 
Welsens,  and  Bonvisi  to  discount  their  paper  and  man- 
age their  money  transactions.  It  is  said  that  more 
extensive  business  was  transacted  at  Antwerp  in  the 
course  of  a  single  month,  than  Venice  in  her  prime 
could  compass  in  a  couple  of  years.  The  Nether- 
lander, where  he  had  not  the  genius  to  invent,  had  the 
perseverance  to  imitate,  and  the  skill  to  improve.  He 
improved  the  compass ;  made  almost,  if  not  quite,  the 
earliest  use  of  typography;  painted  glass  windows  for 
his  cathedrals;  engraved  finely  on  copper;  was  the 
first  to  make  a  pocket-watch,  to  confirm  his  strong 
views  of  punctuality;  the  first  to  set  up  a  sun-dial 
amid  the  straight  walks  of  his  garden ;  and  made  the 
world  frantic  with  envy  over  his  splendid  tulip-beds. 
More  than  this :  he  established  a  school  of  painting, 
which  is  a  mirror  of  himself,  his  mind,  his  wife,  and 
his  country :  literal,  imitative,  minutely  exact,  perfect 
in  its  reproduction  of  truth  and  its  rendering  of  nature, 
often  great  in  its  coarse  strength;  but  rarely  rising 
into  the  unknown  world  of  the  ideal,  where  he  himself 
had  never  been. 

The  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  struck  deep  root 
at  an  early  hour  into  the  favoring  soil  of  the  Nether- 
lands. Truth  and  liberty  were  home-words  among  the 
people.     They  loved  the  real,  disliked  pretensions,  and 


178  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

approved  of  every  man's  right  to  think  a  matter  over 
for  himself,  and  to  decide  upon  its  merits  in  the  quiet 
council-chamber  of  his  own  mind ;  instead  of  submitting 
thought,  will,  and  action  to  the  authoritative  teaching  of 
a  privileged  order.  Above  all,  they  detested  persecu- 
tion; and  the  flying  bands  of  hunted  exiles  that  soon 
came  crying  for  sanctuary  at  their  peaceful  thresholds 
awoke  their  indignant  commiseration.  These  poor 
fugitives  were  received  within  their  sober  homes,  and 
soon  pity  for  the  confessor  melted  the  phlegmatic  nature 
of  the  host  into  love  of  the  faith. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  great  community  of  thriving 
merchants,  prosperous  manufacturers,  industrious  arti- 
sans, and  enterprising  mariners,  stalks  an  imperious 
lord,  with  a  long  train  of  haughty  hidalgoes,  rapacious 
generals,  and  gloomy  bigots  behind  him.  This  is 
Charles,  Emperor  of  Germany,  King  of  Spain,  of  the 
Two  Sicilies,  Lord  of  Jerusalem,  of  Lombardy,  and 
of  the  golden  world  of  the  "West.  The  suzerainity 
of  the  Netherlands  had  passed  to  the  house  of  Haps- 
burg,  as  the  appanage  of  Mary  of  Burgundy,  heiress 
of  Charles  the  Bold,  when  the  guardian  burghers  of 
Ghent  gave  her  in  marriage  to  the  Archduke  Maximil- 
ian. Maximilian  became  emperor  in  1493.  Three 
years  afterward  his  son,  and  the  son  of  the  deceased 
Mary  of  Burgundy,  married  the  weak-minded  or  the 
wandering  Joanna,  daughter  of  the  astute  Ferdinand 
of  Aragon  and  the  gentler  Isabella  of  Castile.  In 
the  year  1500  there  was  born  of  this  union  the  cele- 
brated Charles  V.,  and  this  is  the  whence  and  the 
wherefore  of  that  stately  cavalcade  which  marched  with 
portentous  tread  along  the  dykes  of  the  lowlands  and 


THE   FRUITS   OF   MASTERY.  179 

through  the  mistrustful  streets  of  their  cities.  It  was 
soon  evident  that  the  imperial  Charles  meant  to  treat 
the  Netherlands  as  a  conquered  country.  But  as  the 
land  was  rich,  and  the  enormous  expenses  of  his  wars 
kept  him  needy,  it  was  important  that  imposts  and 
taxes  should  be  productive;  therefore  commerce  was 
to  be  fostered,  in  order  that  his  subjects  might  fill 
their  purses  for  his  royal  use.  Yet  as  to  freedom  of 
thought  and  liberty  of  conscience,  these  were  danger- 
ous heresies,  which  must  be  trampled  out  in  as  sum- 
mary a  fashion  as  was  found  to  be  so  eminently  success- 
ful in  his  own  fair  Spain.  Searching  edicts  came  forth 
from  the  imperial  mind,  announcing  that  the  gospel 
should  never  be  read  by  private  individuals ;  that  assem- 
blies which  partook  in  the  remotest  degree  of  a  religious 
character  should  be  instantly  put  down ;  and  that  house- 
hold talk  on  the  objectionable  topic  of  religion  around 
the  stove  or  the  table  should  be  forbidden,  under  severe 
penalties.  Special  courts  were  set  up  to  enforce  these 
grinding  edicts.  Criminals  convicted  on  such  counts 
were  to  be  buried  alive,  or  otherwise  executed;  relapsed 
heretics  were  to  be  burned  to  death ;  and  he  who  re- 
nounced his  errors  and  said,  "I  recant,"  was  to  be  ten- 
derly preserved  from  danger  of  future  falls,  by  being  sent 
into  another  world  just  while  he  happened  to  be  in  his 
right  mind.  Under  these  terrible  edicts,  as  adminis- 
tered by  Mary,  Dowager-Queen  of  Hungary,  Charles's 
sister,  and  regent,  thousands  of  his  Dutch  and  Flemish 
subjects  parted  with  their  lives  ratlier  than  with  their 
faith.  And  now  the  Spanish  ideal  good,  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Inquisition,  came  into  the  mind  of  Charles. 
The  project  was  mooted;  and  this  was  the  instantane- 


180  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

ous  effect:  the  great  tide  of  commerce,  which  swept 
along  the  bustling  marts  of  Antwerp,  was  suddenly 
arrested,  and  came  to  a  dead  pause;  the  foreign  mer- 
chants began  to  pack  their  chests  and  settle  their 
accounts,  preparatory  to  "flitting;"  the  buyer  and  the 
seller  stopped  in  the  midst  of  their  bargain,  and  the 
work-shops  closed  their  doors.  Charles  saw  that  he 
had  ventured  a  step  too  far;  and  he,  in  his  royal  turn, 
said,  "I  recant;"  the  foreign  merchants  need  not  fear: 
the  Holy  OflBce  shall  pass  them  by;  the  agent  of  my- 
self and  of  my  church  shall  not  be  called  Inquisitor — 
he  is  only  "Supreme  Judge." 

Thus  Antwerp  indeed  was  spared;  but  in  the  rest 
of  the  provinces  the  fearful  tribunal  exacted  its  full 
tale  of  victims.  Fifty  thousand  persons  perished,  dur- 
ing the  rule  of  Charles  over  the  Netherlands,  for  ques- 
tions of  faith  alone:  some  in  the  walled-up  graves  of 
the  "Holy  Office,"  some  by  soaking  the  land  with  their 
honest  blood,  while  many  were  borne  away  by  the  swift 
wheels  of  a  chariot  of  fire.  And  still  from  their  ashes 
— the  dust  left  behind  by  those  glittering  wheels — 
sprang  up  the  undying  phenix  of  Protestantism. 
Charles  blessed  himself  under  the  illusion  that  he  had 
killed  out  the  malignant  race;  but  Philip,  when  he 
came  to  reign  in  his  father's  stead,  found  that  multi- 
tudes must  have  been  passed  over  through  inadvert- 
ence, or  that  verily  the  seed  of  the  martyrs  had 
brought  forth  a  hundredfold.  But,  with  the  vital  ex- 
ception of  the  religious  question,  Charles  ruled  the 
land  with  no  impolitic  sway.  He  visited  the  provinces 
again  and  again ;  he  allowed  easy  access  to  his  person ; 
the  people  remembered,  with  a  something  of  national 


PHILIP.  181 

pride,  that  the  mighty  lord  of  half  the  known  world 
was  born  among  them,  was  the  direct  descendant  of 
their  old  Burgundian  suzerains,  and  that  through  him 
they  had  a  sort  of  ownership  in  the  crown  jewels  of  his 
diadem — in  sparkling  Italy,  broad  Germania,  glowing 
Africa,  and  the  burning  gold  of  the  far-off  Spanish 
main.  They  were  conscious  that  through  his  ascend- 
ency they  were  privileged  traders  with  the  open  ports 
of  the  world.  Ten  times  did  Charles  revisit  his  sturdy 
Hollanders:  he  spoke  their  language,  adopted  their 
homely  customs  in  his  private  life,  and  liked  to  refresh 
himself  among  a  straightforward,  manly  people,  who 
knew  not  the  stately  ceremonial  of  Vienna,  the  grace- 
ful duplicity  of  Lombardy,  the  smiling  hatred  of  Na- 
ples, and  the  lofty  yet  cringing  servility  of  Castile. 

Charles  was  anxious  that  his  son  Philip  should  be  a 
favorite  with  his  future  subjects;  and  therefore,  with  a 
view  to  cultivate  affection  betwixt  them,  he  sent  for  the 
hopeful  lad,  and  showed  him  with  paternal  solicitude  to 
his  good  people  of  Brussels.  The  people  flocked  out 
into  the  streets  with  a  broad  smile  of  honest  welcome 
on  their  good-humored  faces,  and  opened  wide  their 
purse-strings,  in  order  to  make  a  costly  festival  for  the 
heir-apparent  of  a  realm  on  which  the  sun  never  went 
down.  What  did  they  see  ?  A  diminutive  youth,  with 
a  chest  so  narrow,  that  truly  the  heart  had  never  room 
to  expand;  with  a  fair  complexion,  and  thin,  fair  hair, 
which  intimated  his  Teutonic  ancestry ;  with  a  triangu- 
lar face,  broad  at  the  forehead,  and  narrowing  off  into  a 
protruding  chin,  which  was  afterward  pointed  by  a  short, 
sharp,  yellow  beard;  an  eye  blue,  like  his  father's;  an 
aquiline  nose ;  a  broad,  ungainly  mouth,  with  an  under 

16 


182  WILLIAM   THE    SILENT. 

lip  coarse,  hanging,  and  heavy.  It  was  that  lip,  which 
was  a  deformity  in  his  father,  which  became  celebrated 
in  himself  as  the  Burgundian  feature,  and  which  has 
become  an  heir-loom  in  the  house  of  Austria.  That 
heavy  lip  would  not  part  from  its  stern  fellow  above  to 
let  out  a  single  smile  on  this  festal  day;  neither  would 
the  cold,  glass-like  blue  eye  soften  into  a  glance  of 
friendly  meaning.  That  entry  into  Brussels,  from 
which  the  generally  politic  father  had  hoped  so  much, 
lost  for  Philip  all  the  hearts  of  the  Netherlanders. 
His  look  was  a  prophetic  shadow  cast  onward  from  the 
unseen  future.  They  saw  in  that  hard  countenance  the 
youthful  tyrant,  full  of  promise  already  sealed,  full  of 
purpose  already  formed.  The  father's  propitiating 
affability  was  wholly  neutralized  by  the  haughty  and 
sullen  gravity  of  the  son;  and  from  that  hour  may  be 
dated  the  "Revolt  of  the  Netherlands."  Born  in 
Spain,  and  half  a  Spaniard  by  descent,  Philip  was 
wholly  a  Spaniard  in  temperament  and  by  training. 
He  spoke  no  other  tongue  than  his  own  stately  Castil- 
ian ;  had  been  bred  under  the  iron  rule  of  the  Romish 
church;  had  chosen  churchmen  and  monks  as  his 
favored  associates;  and  could  brook  none  but  Span- 
iards about  his  person.  The  story  of  his  education 
was  but  too  legibly  written  on  his  face  of  sullen  re- 
serve, which  the  honest  Flemings  looked,  at  with  dis- 
may, and  then  made  a  memorandum  in  their  minds  for 
future  reference. 

Philip  was  born  on  the  21st  of  May,  in  the  year 
1527,  at  Valladolid.  Six  years  after  this  date,  on  the 
twenty-fifth  of  April,  in  the  year  1533,  there  was  born 
at  Dillenburg,  in  Nassau,  that  William  of  Orange  who 


WILLIAM   OF   ORANGE.  188 

received  from  his  contemporaries  the  surname  of  "The 
Silent."  His  house  had  given  an  emperor  to  Germany 
in  Adolph  of  Nassau.  His  ancestors  had  been  Dukes 
of  Gueldres  before  the  house  of  Burgundy  claimed 
sway  over  the  Low  Countries;  they  had  owned  large 
possessions  and  sounding  titles  in  Brabant,  Luxem- 
bourg, Flanders,  Holland;  but  they  took  their  name 
from  the  small  principality  of  Orange,  which  occupies 
a  pleasant  region  near  the  poetic  Vaucluse  and  the 
historic  Avignon,  and  which  still  preserves  its  fine  old 
Roman  remains.  William  had  inherited,  through  the 
will  of  his  cousin.  Prince  R^n^,  great  estates  and  titles 
when  he  was  only  eleven  years  of  age.  His  parents 
had  embraced  the  Lutheran  faith,  and  had  instilled  the 
same  doctrines  into  the  mind  of  the  boy.  But  his 
future  was  too  important  to  be  thus  intrusted  by 
Charles  V.  to  the  dangerous  training  of  heretics ;  and 
he  induced  the  too  yielding  parents  to  give  up  the  boy 
of  twelve  to  his  own  careful  guardianship.  He  placed 
William  in  the  household  of  his  sister,  the  regent,  Mary 
of  Hungary,  who,  while  she  educated  him  liberally  as 
became  his  fortunes,  bred  the  boy  as  a  strict  Catholic, 
in  accordance  with  the  traditions  of  her  house.  But 
the  keen  eye  of  the  emperor  had  discovered  the  re- 
markable qualities  of  the  boy,  and  in  order  to  keep 
him  near  his  person,  and  subject  to  his  own  molding 
hand,  he  removed  him  from  the  vice-regal  household  to 
the  imperial.  William,  at  fifteen,  became  page  to  his 
august  master.  As  he  grew  in  years  and  in  discretion, 
he  was  sent  hither  and  thither  on  various  important 
missions;  and  it  implies  no  small  merit  in  the  young 
page,  that   he  should   be  selected  as  message-bearer 


184  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

for  such  a  monarcli  as  the  astute  and  sagacious 
Charles.  For  nine  years  he  was  honored  with  this 
distinguished  training;  and  it  was  remarked  that  when 
the  subtle  kaiser  gave  audience  to  foreign  embassadors, 
young  Nassau  alone  was  allowed  to  be  present  in  the 
apartment ;  proving  by  this  token  that  he  was  already 
earning  the  title  of  "William  the  Silent."  The  Silent? 
Ay,  but  at  the  same  time  "The  Listener."  If  nothing 
passed  his  sealed  lips,  nought  escaped  his  acute  ear. 
A  youth  who  knew  all  the  winding-passages,  secret 
corridors,  and  back-stairs  of  kaiser-craft,  and  who  was 
placed  as  if  behind  the  arras  of  secret  conference,  was 
certainly  in  a  more  favorable  position  for  sharpening 
the  intellect  than  for  cultivating  the  moral  sense.  His 
favorite  author  at  this  time  was  Macchiavelli ;  and  it 
must  be  admitted  that  he  afterward  showed  himself  too 
apt  a  pupil  of  too  subtle  a  master.  But  before  long 
an  occasion  was  to  arise  in  which  his  excellent  gift  as 
a  silent  listener  was  to  be  of  priceless  worth.  In  the 
mean  time  he  was  selected  by  Charles  to  hold  the  high 
office  of  general-in-chief  of  the  army  employed  on  the 
frontier  of  France  during  the  absence  of  the  Duke  of 
Savoy;  and  this  when  he  was  but  twenty-two  years 
old.  The  sagacity  of  the  master  was  justified  by  the 
able  conduct  of  the  servant  during  this  temporary 
command. 


THE  HALL  OF  STATE  AT  BRUSSELS. 

On  one  great  historic  occasion,  the  three  remarkable 
men  who  have  been  described  above,  Charles  of  Aus- 
tria, Philip  of  Spain,  and  William  of  Orange,  were 


HALL    OF   STATE.  185 

grouped  together  with  fine  scenic  effect  on  a  stage 
which  fixed  the  attention  of  waiting  Europe.  The 
scene  is  as  memorable  for  the  character  of  the  actors 
as  for  the  significance  of  the  act.  The  day  was  the 
25th  of  October,  1555 — the  place,  the  great  hall  of  the 
royal  palace  at  Brussels.  Every  accessory  that  could 
give  effect  to  a  grand  State  representation  was  present; 
every  name  which  could  give  an  imposing  sanction  to 
the  last  act  of  one  great  drama  and  the  opening  act  of 
another,  was  lent  for  the  occasion :  the  scenery  was 
fine,  the  costume  characteristic,  the  actors  of  consum- 
mate skill.  Some  of  the  spectators  looked  in  each 
other's  face,  to  see  if  it  were  held  to  be  a  comedy,  a 
burlesque,  a  farce ;  but  the  more  part  knit  their  brows, 
while  they  whispered  behind  their  hand,  "A  tragedy — 
and  a  dark  one;  for  the  plot  is  yet  hidden."  It  was 
something  to  get  inside  the  great  hall  on  that  day,  to 
be  a  spectator  of  such  a  scene:  the  world  would  not 
see  its  like  again.  It  is  the  apartment  in  the  old 
palace  of  John  of  Brabant,  wherein  the  solemn  chapters 
of  the  knights  of  the  golden  fleece  are  held;  and  the 
arras  which  clothes  the  walls  is  the  woven  story  of 
Gilead,  the  Abi-ezrite,  who  is  invoked  as  the  patron 
saint  of  the  "Toison  d'Or."  Beneath  a  gorgeous 
canopy,  on  a  raised  platform,  are  placed  three  golden 
chairs  of  state,  but  the  destined  occupants  have  not 
yet  appeared.  The  hall  is  already  lined  with  silent 
spectators:  grave  men  and  brave  men,  false  men  and 
true;  deputies  from  the  provinces,  knights  of  the  fleece, 
robed  magistrates  in  their  civic  chains,  solemn  burghers 
with  stolid  looks  but  anxious  hearts,  imperial  guards, 
haughty  courtiers    from    Vienna,    arrogant    hidalgoes 

10* 


186  WILLIAM   THE    SILENT. 

from  Spain,  fiery  lords  from  Italy,  courtly  embassa- 
dors representing  the  various  thrones  of  Europe.  The 
clock  strikes  three;  and  with  a  clash  of  arms  the  door 
flies  open.  A  personage  clad  in  black,  (for  he  still 
mourns  for  his  mother,)  and  distinguished  only  by  the 
glistening  collar  of  the  golden  fleece,  enters  the  hall. 
With  one  arm  he  leans  on  the  shoulder  of  a  young 
nobleman,  while  the  other  rests  on  a  stafi".  It  is  Kaiser 
Charles,  and  he  leans  on  the  shoulder  of  William  the 
Silent  One.  And  Charles  is  reduced  to  this  pitiful 
state !  Bowed  into  a  very  curve,  with  limbs  distorted 
by  disease — he  who  was  once  so  strongly  knit  together, 
so  athletic,  so  supple,  that  he  had  been  the  pride  of 
the  tourney,  had  shared  the  privations  of  the  com- 
monest soldier,  had  himself  mastered  the  poor  victim 
bull  of  Andalusia  amid  the  plaudits  of  the  cruel  ring, 
had  baffled  all  his  foes  by  the  marvelous  rapidity  of 
his  movements,  and  in  the  pride  of  his  princely  strength 
had  despised  the  needful  restoratives  of  sleep  and  of 
repose.  He  has  not  yet  counted  out  his  fifty-six 
years,  and  yet  all  this  weighty  decrepitude  has  fallen 
upon  him.  His  countenance,  and  especially  the  fore- 
head, with  its  right  royal  expanse,  is  chequered  with 
the  deep  care-lines  of  anxious  thought,  rather  than 
with  the  common  furrows  which  Time  traces  on  the 
surface ;  and  yet  it  wears  a  majesty  of  its  own,  which 
the  yellow  hair  of  the  head  and  of  the  beard,  now 
thickly  powdered  and  crisped  with  white,  the  heavy 
lower  lip,  which  has  before  been  mentioned  as  the  last- 
ing type  of  the  house,  and  the  distortions  of  the  bend- 
ing figure,  cannot  seriously  impair.  There  is  a  tinge 
about  him  of  that  melancholy  fancy  which  haunts  him 


THE   FOUR   BRIDES.  187 

in  his  lonely  moments,  and  which  even  now,  in  the 
midst  of  that  brilliant  crowd,  makes  his  pulse  beat  with 
feverish  and  uncertain  action.  Ever  since  the  death 
of  his  poor  distraught  mother.  Queen  Joanna,  daughter 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  he  fancies  he  has  heard  her 
pitiful  voice  calling  him  as  if  from  a  distance  to  follow 
her. 

Behind  this  care-worn  and  broken-down  man  of 
might  walks  the  son  and  heir.  What  the  burghers  of 
Brussels  had  seen  in  the  boy  is  now  matured  in  the 
man.  He  is  twenty-eight  years  of  age  by  this  time. 
He  has  married  a  youthful  Portuguese  bride,  and  lost 
her ;  he  has  married  a  gloomy  English  bride,  (too  much 
like  himself  to  be  a  congenial  partner,)  and  in  three 
more  years  he  will  be  free  from  her  also.  Even  then 
he  will  have  run  through  but  half  his  marriage  com- 
pacts. There  is  a  beautiful  young  French  bride  to  be 
wooed  and  married  and  buried;  and,  lastly,  there  is 
the  same  fate  in  store  for  an  amiable  Austrian  maiden, 
less  than  half  her  sullen  husband's  age,  young  Anne 
of  Austria,  his  fourth  and  last  spouse.  His  cousin, 
Mary  of  Portugal,  was  the  bride  of  his  choice,  before 
his  nature  had  become  thoroughly  indurated  by  his 
monkish  education,  before  he  had  advisedly  put  on  the 
whole  armor  of  the  bigot,  before  he  had  drawn  up  his 
own  code  of  laws  written  in  letters  of  fire,  before  he 
had  deliberately  determined  to  be  "a  king  without  a 
subject  remaining  to  him,  rather  than  be  a  king 
over  heretics."  They  were  both  but  sixteen  years  of 
age;  and  if  Philip  ever  loved,  he  possibly  loved  his 
cousin,  Mary  of  Pdrtugal.  She  bore  him  the  mourn- 
fully-celebrated Don  Carlos;  and  then  she  died,  before 


188  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

she  had  reached  her  eighteenth  year.  The  second 
wife,  Mary  Tudor,  had  been  betrothed  to  his  father, 
Charles  V.,  in  his  youth;  and  though  she  loved  her 
Spanish  lord,  Philip,  who  was  her  distorted  ideal  of 
the  Christian  monarch — all  will  and  no  weakness — all 
head  and  no  heart — yet  he  in  return  loved  not  her^  but 
her  fair  dower  of  England.  The  beautiful  Isabella  of 
France  was  the  betrothed  of  his  own  son,  Don  Carlos; 
and  though  she  was  the  idol  of  two  nations,  the  soul 
of  her  haughty  lord  was  too  busy  with  State  involve- 
ments, and  with  watching  and  thwarting  his  wayward 
son,  too  deep  in  the  secrets  of  the  Inquisition,  too  hard 
at  work  writing  his  own  State  papers  and  signing 
orders  for  autos-da-fe^  to  unbend  in  the  society  of  his 
fascinating  wife.  Anne  was  her  successor  but  two 
years  after  the  lovely  Isabella  was  laid  in  her  tomb ; 
and  Anne,  again,  had  been  plighted  to  the  unfortunate 
Carlos.  Few  fathers  have  thus  twice  supplanted  their 
own  son,  after  having  taken  the  allotted  bride  of  their 
own  father.  And  Anne  too  was  laid  with  Isabella  in 
that  splendid  palace  of  the  dead,  the  gigantic  Escurial, 
which  it  was  the  fascination  of  Philip's  life  to  rear  in" 
the  midst  of  a  desert,  and  which  became  the  royal 
mausoleum  of  Spain. 

But  to  return  from  this  long  matrimonial  excursion. 
Philip,  while  he  walks  with  somber  gravity  behind  his 
decrepit  father,  is  at  this  moment  but  the  recent  bride- 
groom of  his  Mary  Tudor,  (it  is  not  pleasant  to  say  our 
Mary.)  He  is  magnificently  dressed  and  decorated; 
and  the  splendid  jewel  of  the  Toison  d'Or,  of  which 
order  his  father  had  made  him  grand  master  but  a  few 
days  before,  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  bril- 


WORLD-TLRED   SOULS.  189 

liant  of  his  ornaments.  It  was  j&tting  that  he  who  was 
assuming  the  pomps  and  cares  of  sway  should  be  splen- 
didly attired.  It  was  also  fitting  that  he  who  was  re- 
nouncing its  vanities,  and  retiring  from  an  empire  to  a 
cell,  from  the  splendid  throne  of  old  Charlemagne,  with 
added  regions  of  which  Charlemagne  never  dreamed, 
lying  beyond  the  golden  line  where  the  sun  of  his 
empire  dipped  behind  the  ripple  of  the  western  waves 
— it  was  fitting  that  he  should  be  clad  in  the  mourning 
garb  of  the  devotee.  It  was  one  solemn  reading — and 
there  are  various  readings — of  the  "going  out  and 
coming  in"  over  the  threshold  of  this  mortal  life. 
Charles  the  Imperial  is  now  supported  to  one  of  those 
three  gilded  seats,  by  the  arm  of  The  Silent  One. 
Philip  takes  his  place  on  the  second  of  those  chairs; 
and  the  third  is  occupied  by  the  retiring  regent,  Mary, 
Queen-Dowager  of  Hungary.  For  twenty  years  has 
she  been  ruling  all  those  impracticable  burghers,  and 
all  those  freedom-loving  guilds,  administrating  to  them 
the  terrible  edicts  which  have  been  before  mentioned. 
She  is  tired ;  and  no  wonder.  She  is  impatient  to  get 
over  this  great  State  ceremonial,  in  order  to  accompany 
her  far-worn  brother  into  some  genial  retirement  in 
Spain.  There  is  another  lady  of  mark  in  the  cortege, 
but  she  sits  not  under  the  lofty  canopy  whereon  are 
blazoned  the  old  arms  of  Burgundy.  That  widowed 
lady  is  relict  of  the  chivalrous  Francis  I.  of  France, 
who  was  so  perpetually  wrestling  with  his  imperial 
brother-in-law  in  most  unequal  conflict.  The  two 
sister  dowagers  are  ready  to  bear  their  brother  com- 
pany to  the  land  of  the  South.  They  will  plead  to  be 
tolerated,  as  world-tired   neighbors,  in   some   hidden 


190  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

spot  near  his  future  monastic  home  of  Juste,  amid  the 
leaping  waters,  the  bowery  myrtles,  and  the  golden 
orange  and  lemon  groves  of  Estremadura.  But  the 
lofty  recluse  waves  his  weary  hand  to  his  sisters,  and 
chooses  the  society  of  St.  Jerome's  monks  in  their 
stead. 

But  the  young  man  on  whose  shoulder  the  emperor 
leaned  as  he  entered  the  hall  of  abdication?  Let  us 
have  his  portrait.  One  likes  to  know  the  character  in 
which  a  great  name  is  writ  upon  the  parchment  scroll 
of  a  chronicle — the  colors  in  which  an  initial  letter  of 
a  new  and  grand  chapter  are  traced  upon  the  illumi- 
nated manuscript  of  history.  William  of  Orange  was 
a  tall  spare-built  young  man;  one  of  those  who  sleep 
little  and  think  much.  The  finely  cut  features  were 
chiseled  rather  after  a  Spanish  than  a  Flemish  mold; 
and  they  followed  those  delicate  lines  which  imply  fine 
perceptions  and  keen  discrimination.  His  complexion 
was  dark,  and  his  hair  dark;  while  the  lower  part  of 
the  face  was  masked  by  a  dark  moustache,  and  sharp- 
ened by  a  pointed  beard.  The  dark  eyes  were  expres- 
sive of  profound  thought.  But  it  was  the  high  and 
broad  forehead  which  looked  the  doomed  council-cham- 
ber of  meditation.  What  the  subject  under  debate  in 
that  council-hall,  no  man  living  could  know,  unless  in- 
vited to  conference;  there  was  no  such  thing  as  eaves- 
dropping; nothing  to  be  caught  by  looking  in  through 
the  chance  crevices  of  an  unguarded  look,  or  through 
the  open  door  of  accidental  revelation.  Schiller  finely 
says  of  William  the  Silent:  "The  calm  tranquillity  of 
a  never-varying  countenance  concealed  a  busy,  ardent 
soul,  which  never  ruffled  even  the  vail  behind  which  it 


PORTRAIT    OF   WILLIAM.  191 

worked."  This  masterful  self-command  was  one  of 
the  most  noticeable  features  in  the  man.  His  mind 
was  ever  at  work,  gathering  materials  for  opinion  from 
unconscious  men,  who  knew  not  that  the  calm  eye  of 
the  Taciturn  was  reading  their  innermost  soul  as  if  it 
were  a  child's  horn-book.  He  was  ever  sorting  and 
arranging  his  miscellaneous  intelligence,  and  then 
quietly  retiring  to  make  up  his  great  resolves — opinions 
which  rarely  had  to  be  revised ;  resolves  which  never 
were  changed.  He  was  too  proud  to  be  servile ;  but 
when  a  kindness  came  from  one  so  reserved,  it  was 
irresistible;  when  a  smile  dawned  slowly  upon  a  coun- 
tenance so  impenetrable,  it  insured  a  friend  or  bought 
a  partisan  on  the  spot;  when  the  tight  lips  were  un- 
locked with  a  purpose  to  let  forth  that  flow  of  elo- 
quence, which  was  ever  there  in  full  reservoir,  and 
which  was  only  held  back  by  the  firm  tide-gates  of 
systematic  reserve,  men  were  carried  away  by  the 
unlooked-for  flood.  William  never  threw  away  a  word ; 
never  wasted  a  look ;  was  never  elated  by  success,  be- 
cause he  had  calmly  taken  it  into  account  beforehand ; 
was  never  disheartened  by  failure,  because  he  had 
coolly  provisioned  himself  against  reverse.  Such  was 
the  future  leader  of  a  great  national  conspiracy. 
Charles  V.  cannot  have  read  him  aright,  with  all  his 
sagacious  penetration;  but  Philip  has — and  he  will 
soon  show  it. 

But  the  long-drawn  ceremonial  is  moving  on,  at  the 
usual  slow  and  stately  pace  of  Castile  chastened  by 
Vienna.  Philibert  de  Bruxelles  has  been  making  a 
ponderous  oration  by  command  of  the  emperor;  and 
while  he  has  been  bowing  his  deferential  adieu  to  the 


192  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

setting  sun,  and,  Persian-like,  worshiping  the  rising 
one  from  the  glowing  hill-top  of  anticipation,  time  has 
been  given  to  sketch  the  portraits  of  the  remarkable 
persons  assembled  in  the  hall  of  State.  And  now, 
having  wound  up  his  harangue,  Philibert  de  Bruxelles 
proceeds  to  read  the  regal  document  whereby  the  whole 
splendid  Burgundian  inheritance,  the  seventeen  prov- 
inces of  the  Netherlands,  are  made  over  with  their 
busy  and  panting  millions  to  that  somber  son  and  heir, 
who,  even  before  this  new  deed  of  gift,  has  entered  on 
his  fair  inheritance  of  the  Two  Sicilies  and  of  Lom- 
bardy ;  who  already  writes  after  his  name  the  shadowy 
titles  of  King  of  England,  King  of  France,  King  of 
Jerusalem;  and  who  before  long  will  own  as  real 
estate  the  whole  splendid  domain  pertaining  to  the 
Spanish  crown.  He  even  will  speak,  by  arrogant 
habit,  of  "My  fine  City  of  Paris"— '^ my  fine  City  of 
Orleans,"  and  so  forth.  Ah!  mayhap  his  possessions 
will  shrink  a  little  before  he  is  ready  to  leave  them; 
mayhap  his  rent-roll  will  shrivel  up  into%i  somewhat 
briefer  list  before  the  very  flames  of  his  own  kindling. 
But  the  devisee  of  kingdoms,  the  abdicating  emperor, 
is  making  ready  to  speak.  He  rises  with  painful  diffi- 
culty ;  and  then,  resting  his  right  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  young  William  of  Nassau,  and  glancing  occasionally 
at  some  notes  which  he  holds  in  his  left  hand,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  address  his  subjects  for  the  last  time.  It  is 
the  French  tongue  in  which  he  speaks,  probably  as  the 
neutral  language  of  diplomacy  among  the  many  nations 
represented  in  that  hall.  He  briefly  tracked  his  own 
remarkable  life  upward  from  his  seventeenth  year  to 
the  culminating  point  of  the  present  hour.     He  had 


A   RETROSPECT.  193 

been  born  among  his  own  well-beloved  Netherlanders ; 
six  times  had  he  made  expeditions  into  his  maternal 
Spain;  nine  times  into  his  imperial  Germany;  seven 
times  into  subject  Italy;  twice  to  England;  twice  to 
Africa;  four  times  into  France;  eleven  voyages  had 
he  made  on  the  seas;  and  ten  times  had  he  revisited 
the  prosperous  land  of  his  birth.  Forty  years  had 
elapsed  since  the  scepter  of  the  Netherlands  had  passed 
into  his  youthful  hand.  He  would  not  willingly  part 
from  his  own  people  without  giving  a  few  words  of 
farewell  from  his  own  lips.  He  had  always  remem- 
bered the  interests  of  the  dear  land  of  his  birth,  even 
when  a  more  extended  empire  had  laid  its  weighty 
responsibilities  upon  him ;  but  above  and  over  all  had 
he  been  mindful  of  the  great  interests  of  his  religion. 
If  any  one  in  such  licentious  times  had  harbored  doubts 
in  his  breast,  let  those  doubts  be  extirpated — and  at 
once.  Were  there  any  here  whom  he  had  wronged  ? 
Let  them  believe  it  was  in  ignorance,  and  let  them 
grant  him  their  forgiveness. 

There  was  a  deep  hush  through  the  assemblage  ;  and 
then  the  multitude,  moved  by  a  generous  impulse  of 
regret,  broke  forth  into  tears  and  sobs.  But  in  very 
truth  it  was  the  young  men,  the  heirs  of  the  future, 
who  had  reason  to  weep,  and  not  the  old  men  who  re- 
membered the  past.  The  sons  of  hope  were  in  worse 
case  on  that  day  than  were  the  sires  of  memory.  And 
so  might  think  the  least  intelligent  observer,  as  he 
turned  from  the  father  who  was  now  blessing  and  en- 
dowing his  son,  to  the  son  who  in  silence  was  receiving 
the  same.  "Go  on  as  you  have  begun,"  says  Charles 
to  Philip;  "fear  God;  live  justly;  respect  the  laws: 

17 


194  WILLIAM    THE    SILENT. 

above  all,  cherish  the  interests  of  religion;  and  may- 
God  bless  jou  with  a  son  to  whom,  when  old,  infirm, 
and  stricken  with  sickness,  you  may  be  able  to  resign 
your  kingdom  with  the  same  good-will  with  which  I 
now  give  mine  to  you."  And  then  even  Philip  II. 
dropped  a  tear — so  says  tradition;  but  it  adds,  it  was 
the  last  which  moistened  his  cheek.  Now  Charles  sank 
back  into  his  chair,  exhausted  and  deathly  pale.  Philip 
bent  his  knee  and  received  the  sign  of  the  cross  on 
his  head  from  his  father's  feeble  hand;  while  the  em- 
peror, looking  round  on  his  sobbing  people,  whispered, 
with  unfeigned  emotion,  "God  bless  you!  God  bless 
you!"  and  then  the  curtain  dropped. 


THE    FOREST    OLADE. 

The  scene  is  entirely  changed.  It  is  now  the  year 
1559,  and  the  spot  on  which  the  light  falls  is  a  green 
valley  in  the  ancient  Bois  de  Vincennes.  The  court 
of  Henry  II.  of  France  was  at  this  time  tarrying  for  a 
season  in  the  old  castle  of  Vincennes,  whose  lofty  walls 
and  deep  ditches  marked  it  out  much  more  appro- 
priately for  the  State  prison  which  it  afterward  became, 
than  for  the  abode  of  the  pleasure-loving  son  of  Fran- 
cis I.,  or  for  the  scene  of  the  disgraceful  triumphs  of 
Diana  of  Poitiers.  Take  one  second-sight  glance  down 
the  long  vista  of  years,  and  a  view  may  be  caught  of 
one  of  the  blackest  State  tragedies  in  history;  when 
the  young  Due  d'Enghien,  the  Prince  of  Condi's  only 
son,  was  led  out  by  the  wild  glare  of  midnight  torches, 
and  shot  in  that  very  fosse,  to  appease  the  suspicious 


THE    TIRED   HUNTERS.  195 

jealousy  of  Napoleon.  But  it  was  daylight,  and  the 
dew  lay  fresh  on  the  wood-paths  of  the  forest,  when 
Henry  pricked  forth  to  the  chase.  There  had  been 
much  hard  riding  and  eager  scouring  through  the  forest 
glades,  when  two  tired  hunters  found  themselves  alone 
together  in  a  long  aisle  of  the  wood,  where  the  tall 
trees,  lacing  their  branches  high  above  them,  made  a 
welcome  shelter  for  the  hot  heads  of  the  hunters. 
Henry  II.  lifts  off  his  plumed  cap  of  velvet,  and  wipes 
his  forehead.  The  young  cavalier  who  rides  by  his 
side,  with  a  look  of  deferential  reserve  on  his  handsome 
but  impenetrable  countenance,  is  Prince  William  of 
Orange ;  and  this  is  the  memorable  day  on  which  he 
wins  his  surname  of  "The  Silent."  Hot  heads,  did 
some  one  say  ?  Ay,  Henry's  may  be  hot ;  but  the 
head  of  the  other  is  always  cool.  How  comes  it  that 
young  Nassau  is  riding  so  confidentially  beside  the 
king  of  that  country  with  which  his  master,  Philip  of 
Spain,  has  lately  been  struggling  in  war  ?  The  young 
man  has  been  chosen  by  Henry  as  one  of  the  hostages 
for  the  fulfillment  of  that  treaty  of  peace  which  bears 
in  history  the  name  of  Chateau-Cambresis.  The  in- 
itiatory steps  had  been  taken  by  the  old  Constable 
Montmorency  and  the  Cardinal  Lorraine  on  the  part 
of  France,  and  by  the  terrible  Alva,  by  Anthony  Per- 
renot,  Bishop  of  Arras,  best  known  as  the  detested 
Cardinal  Granvelle,  and  by  young  William  of  Orange, 
on  the  part  of  Philip  of  Spain;  and  William  was  an 
honored  hostage  at  the  court  of  Henry.  Yes,  Henry's 
head  was  much  heated,  for  it  was  racked  with  exciting 
subjects  of  recent  debate.  The  new  allies  had  agreed 
together  upon  a  notable  scheme,  which  formed   the 


196  WILLIAM   THE    SILENT. 

matter  of  a  secret  convention  betwixt  them.  This 
was,  to  destroy  heresy,  by  tearing  it  up  by  the  roots 
out  of  the  whole  soil  of  France,  and  out  of  the  broad 
Spanish  realms.  It  was  to  be  a  perfect  extirpation. 
It  was  highly  desirable  to  get  rid  of  it,  root  and  branch, 
at  once  and  forever.  It  would  save  them  a  world  of 
trouble  to  get  the  whole  business  settled  at  once,  and 
then  to  wash  their  royal  hands  of  the  affair.  So  rea- 
soned the  contracting  parties.  Henry  was  an  honored 
son  of  the  Inquisition,  as  well  as  Philip,  and  he  had 
unbounded  faith  in  the  wisdom  and  untiring  zeal  of 
that  secret  and  irresponsible  tribunal  which  bore  the 
pious  name  of  the  Holy  Office.  But  it  was  somewhat 
too  slow,  in  its  solemn  and  stately  movements,  for  the 
anxious  haste  of  the  son  of  Francis  I.  and  the  son  of 
Charles  V.;  and  so  their  "most  Christian"  and  "most 
Catholic"  majesties  had  agreed  upon  a  secret  rider  to 
the  treaty,  whereby  they  should  enter  into  a  solemn 
league  and  covenant,  to  cure  their  tainted  lands  by  a 
general  massacre  of  all  those  who  were  infected  with 
spiritual  disease. 

Philip,  on  his  part,  had  intrusted  the  arrangements 
of  this  secret  convention  to  a  most  fitting  agent,  who 
was  fellow-hostage  with  William  of  Orange — Fernando 
Alvarez  de  Toledo,  Duke  of  Alva.  He  was  some- 
where about  fifty  years  of  age  at  this  period.  Early 
orphaned  by  the  death  of  his  father  in  the  African' 
expedition,  he  was  bred  by  his  warlike  grandfather  in 
the  midst  of  camps.  He  was  early  placed  near  the 
person  of  Philip,  and  the  two  kindred  souls  shared  the 
same  court  life,  the  same  State  journeys,  and  the  same 
peculiar  tastes.     But  Alva  was  too  haughty  and   too 


A   FIT      INSTRUMENT.  197 

stern  to  cringe  to  the  heir-apparent,  or  even  to  his 
imperial  and  imperious  master;  and  Philip,  who  ap- 
proved of  the  unbending  strength  of  Fernando's  char- 
acter, foresaw  in  him  the  right  hand  to  execute  his  stern 
decrees,  and  the  unshrinking  zeal  to  support  his  steps 
all  through  that  unswerving  path  which  lay  in  dark 
vision  before  him.  The  man  with  the  singularly  long, 
narrow  face,  with  the  long,  narrow  beard,  whose  lines 
precisely  continued  downward  the  straight  lines  of  the 
face;  with  the  long,  aquiline  nose;  with  the  short, 
compressed  mouth,  whose  lips  just  separated  the  down- 
drooping  moustache,  which  sought  to  follow  the  pre- 
vailing tendency  of  the  beard ;  with  the  small  eyes  set 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  nose,  and  which  were  yet 
caverned  under  pent-house  brows,  that  threw  a  dark 
shadow  from  beneath  their  overhanging  eaves;  with 
the  full  but  low  forehead,  which  bore  a  diverging 
furrow,  like  that  singular  mark  in  the  form  of  the 
letter  "v,"  which  is  said  always  to  betoken  the  viper; 
with  the  large  ear  and  the  short  growth  of  crisp  hair; 
the  man  with  such  a  face  as  this,  as  preserved  to  us  by 
the  inimitable  pencil  of  Titian,  was  the  very  man  of 
all  others  in  the  Spanish  world  to  be  the  chosen  agent 
of  Philip  in  the  secret  convention  with  Henry  II.  of 
France. 

Now,  the  weak-minded  Henry,  who  was  fit  for  little 
but  hunting,  fighting,  and  being  disgracefully  ruled  by 
the  beautiful  Duchess  de  Valentinois,  presumed  that 
William  of  Orange  was  quite. as  deep  in  his  master's 
counsels  as  the  Duke  of  Alva;  and  hence,  after  fanning 
his  hot  brows  with  his  plumed  cap,  as  they  drew  rein 
in  the  gr^en  alley  of  the  Bois  de  Vincennes,  he  began 

17* 


198  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

to  talk  with  his  companion  on  the  interesting  subject 
of  the  Protestant  massacre.  For  Henry  had  no  pre- 
monition concerning  the  point  of  Montgomery's  lance 
at  the  fatal  tourney  of  Paris,  which  overturned  both 
him  and  his  schemes,  but  a  few  months  later ;  and  he 
had  no  intention  of  leaving  the  great  work  to  be  par- 
tially wrought  out  by  his  widow,  Catharine  de  Medicis, 
and  his  young  son,  Charles  IX.,  on  the  fete  day  of 
St.  Bartholomew,  some  fourteen  years  further  on  in 
history.  He  fully  intended  to  do  it  all  himself,  and 
not  to  leave  it  as  a  legacy  in  trust.  He  talked  to  his 
deferential  listener  with  deep  concern  of  the  lament- 
able increase  of  the  "accursed  vermin,"  as  he  called 
the  Huguenots,  and  said  that  his  conscience  would  never 
be  at  ease  until  they  were  destroyed.  Why,  there  were 
even  princes  of  the  blood  royal  who  had  caught  the 
contagion!  A  country  was  in  a  sorry  case  when  dis- 
ease had  spread  so  near  to  the  head;  and  the  extension 
of  the  malady  must  instantly  be  stopped  by  stringent 
measures.  But  with  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  and  the 
firm  aid  of  his  future  son-in-law,  Philip  the  Catholic, 
he  hoped  to  have  his  land  again  in  a  healthy  state. 

William  was  all  attention;  he  listened  with  his  whole 
soul ;  but  not  a  change  of  color,  not  a  quivering  of  eye- 
lid, not  a  movement  in  the  serene  lines  of  the  mouth, 
not  a  lifting  of  the  brow,  revealed  the  faintest  emotion 
of  surprise  or  horror,  as  Henry,  led  away  by  his  ardor 
and  by  the  intrinsic  fascination  of  the  subject,  revealed 
the  intended  machinery  of  the  great  international  plot. 
Still  William  was  all  deferential  attention:  a  good 
listener  is  ever  of  inappreciable  value  in  society;  and 
the  king,  as  he  so  entirely  possessed  the  ear  of  his 


THE   LISTENER.  199 

audience,  "went  into  the  rich  details  of  the  scheme 
whereby  all  heresy  was  to  be  detected,  and  all  here- 
tics were  to  be  destroyed.  In  that  shady  glade,  at 
that  hour  of  secret  horror,  William  of  Orange  won  his 
title.  It  was  like  the  vigil  through  which  the  young 
hero  of  chivalry  had  to  pass  before  he  earned  his 
knightly  rank  and  the  honors  of  his  peculiar  order. 
And  so  the  horsemen  rode  back  to  the  banquet  in  the 
old  hall  of  Vincennes.  William  allowed  a  few  days  to 
pass,  and  then  he  sought  and  obtained  leave  of  absence 
in  order  to  revisit  his  native  provinces.  Thither  he 
carried  intelligence  of  inestimable  worth;  and  forth- 
with he  began  to  prepare,  in  secresy  and  in  silence,  a 
counter-plot  which  in  time  should  defeat  the  great  plot 
of  the  kings.  When  Philip  mined,  William  counter- 
mined :  and  as  is  sometimes  the  case  in  obstinate  siege, 
the  two  parties  often  met  under  ground,  and  struggled 
for  the  mastery  in  the  secret  heart  of  the  earth.  Wil- 
liam had  not  yet  embraced  Protestantism ;  he  had  not 
yet  returned  to  the  faith  of  his  father;  he  had  but 
small  sympathy  at  this  time  with  the  religious  tenets 
of  the  suffering  party.  But  he  would  not  stand  by, 
honored  and  courted,  wealthy  and  powerful,  to  see  this 
cruel  wrong  done  to  the  confessors  of  an  oppressed 
faith.  His  country  should  not  be  down-trodden  by  the 
heel  of  a  stranger  and  a  foreigner,  her  best  blood 
poured  out  like  water  on  the  sodden  earth,  her  pros- 
perity withered  by  the  hot  breath  of  persecution.  "I 
cannot  but  feel  compassion  for  so  many  virtuous  men 
and  virtuous  women  thus  devoted  to  massacre."  These 
were  the  honorable  words  of  a  mere  man  of  the  world ; 
but  that  feeling  of  compassion  initiated  a  career  of  self- 


200  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

sacrifice,  of  unswerving  purpose,  of  noble  wrestling 
with  despair,  of  gigantic  and  unremitting  effort — of 
future  deliverance  for  his  country — and  of  cruel  death 
for  himself.  William  may  not  have  seen  the  whole  dif- 
ficult course  which  lay  before  him,  when  he  entered  his 
sumptuous  Orange-Nassau  palace  in  Brussels  on  this 
hasty  return  from  France:  perhaps  he  would  have 
smiled  incredulously,  if  told  that  he  would  live  to 
become  an  earnest  supporter  of  the  creed  which  he 
now  only  aspired  to  protect  from  wrong.  He  heard 
not  the  echoes  of  the  future  proscribing  his  own  name, 
or  the  rabid  Spanish  cry  ofiering  the  25,000  crowns  for 
his  head.  He  had  no  vision  of  the  cowardly  assassin, 
Balthazar  Gerard,  and  his  fatal  aim;  nor  could  he  fore- 
see Philip's  unguarded  exultation  when  he  said,  "If 
that  blow  had  been  struck  two  years  earlier,  the  Catho- 
lic religion  and  I  should  have  been  great  gainers." 
But  he  had  penetration  enough  to  take  into  full  account 
the  character  of  the  master,  Philip,  and  of  the  servant, 
Alva ;  and  sagacity  enough  to  perceive  that  one  step  on 
the  path  of  opposition  involved  a  whole  life  of  revolt. 


"YIYENT  LES   GUEUX!" 

Another  scene.  Time  had  dragged  on  painfully 
enough.  Seven  years  of  intrigue  and  counter-intrigue ; 
of  arbitrary  measures  and  of  earnest  expostulation; 
of  conspiracy  offensive  against  liberty,  and  of  con- 
spiracy defensive  against  wrong.  The  year  1566  had 
come.  A  great  national  confederacy  had  been  formed 
to  resist  the  systematic  encroachments  of  Spain.    Men 


COUNT   BREDERODE.  201 

had  enrolled  themselves  in  a  secret  league,  and  it  bore 
this  emphatic  title:  "League  of  the  Nobles  of  Flan- 
ders against  the  Spanish  Inquisition."  Many  great 
names  were  already  affixed;  but  the  greatest  names  of 
all,  those  of  William  of  Orange  and  of  the  splendid 
and  chivalrous  Count  Egmont,  were  not  appended  to 
the '  national  petition  which  the  league  was  about  to 
present  to  Philip's  vice-regent  in  the  Netherlands, 
Margaret,  Duchess  of  Parma,  daughter  oC  Charles  V. 
That  remonstrance  bore  the  singular  name  of  the 
"Compromise."  It  was  said  to  have  been  drawn  up 
at  the  princely  residence  of  Orange !  and  Count  Louis 
of  Nassau,  a  younger  brother  of  William,  had  already 
affixed  to  it  his  name.  Louis  was  a  high-hearted  young 
nobleman,  generous,  intrepid,  and  a  zealous  Lutheran — 
the  "5(?w  chevalier,''  as  the  elder  affectionately  called 
the  ardent  and  devoted  younger  brother.  The  hand 
which  held  the  pen  for  the  covenanting  lords  was  said 
to  have  been  that  of  the  scholarly  and  accomplished 
Philip  de  Marnix,  Lord  of  St.  Aldegonde,  one  of  the 
nearest  friends  of  William  of  Nassau's  secret  heart':  a 
brave  and  wise  man,  who  yet  threw  in  his  lot  with  the 
rebels,  and  chose  for  his  device  the  Tfords,  '^Repos 
ailleursJ" 

But  there  was  a  noisy,  turbulent,  blundering  man 
among  the  confederates,  who  was  likely  enough,  by  his 
headlong  precipitancy,  not  only  to  break  his  own  neck, 
in  leaping  the  deep  gulf  rebellion,  but  to  drag  better 
men  than  himself  with  him  to  destruction.  This  was 
Henry,  Count  Brederode^a  brave,  brawling,  kind- 
hearted,  coarse-minded  man,  descended  in  direct  line 
from  some  old  "Dirk  the  Third,"  who  had  called  him- 


202  WILLIAM   THE    SILENT. 

self  king  in  "  Hollowland"  five  hundred  years  before 
Count  Henry  came  storming  along  the  causeways  or 
floundering  in  the  dykes.  Henry  Brederode  had 
squandered  away  all  his  lowland  wealth  excepting  the 
lordship  of  Viana;  and  as  he  had  nothing  to  lose,  and 
everything  to  gain  by  an  overturn,  he  thrust  himself 
forward  as  leader  in  this  forlorn  hope. 

William  of  Nassau  had  not  set  his  name  to  the 
"Compromise,"  because  he  was  as  yet  standing  beside 
the  agitated  Duchess  Margaret  of  Parma,  seeking  to 
modify  her  views  and  to  influence  her  actions;  and 
Count  Egmont  also  still  stood  beside  the  vice-regal 
chair,  as  counselor  and  mediator  betwixt  the  two  irrec- 
oncilable extremes.  A  man  of  bold  and  generous  im- 
pulses, but  of  a  certain  infirmity  of  will ;  brilliant,  yet 
vain;  eager,  yet  vacillating;  such  was  the  favorite 
flower  of  Flemish  chivalry,  the  splendid  hero  of  St. 
Quentin  and  of  Gravelines — Lamoral,  Count  Egmont. 
His  features  were  fine  and  delicate  almost  as  a  wo- 
man's; his  eye  was  of  almost  tender  softness,  yet 
capable  of  emitting  those  sudden  gleams  of  light  which 
belong  to  his  impulsive  temperament;  his  hair  long 
and  flowing,  and  his  stature  tall.  Alas,  for  the  ill- 
fated  Lamoral  Egmont,  that  he  should  have  fallen 
upon  such  times!  There  was  scarcely  a  hero  of  the 
day,  who  stepped  forth  to  claim  redress  of  grievances 
or  to  assert  the  independence  of  the  Low  Countries, 
who  died  other  than  a  violent  death. 

Associated  with  Egmont's  name  in  frequent  council 
now,  as  it  had  been  associated  with  it  on  the  victorious 
field  of  St.  Quentin,  and  would  still  be  on  a  far  more 
mournful  occasion,  as  yet  hidden  behind  the  gloomy 


KNIGHTLY   PETITIONERS.  203 

vail  of  the  future,  was  the  honored  name  of  Philip  de 
Montmorency,  Count  Hoorne.  He  was  a  tall,  manly 
personage;  but  his  face  wore  a  discontented  meaning; 
for  he  was  too  honest  to  look  smooth  when  he  was  in- 
wardly ruffled.  He  was  an  outspoken  man,  inferior  in 
fine  breeding  and  in  grace  of  carriage  to  the  chivalrous 
Egmont;  but  still  his  was  a  noble  enough  type  for  the 
indignant  spirit  of  the  times  to  follow;  and  there  were 
many  men  in  Flanders  and  Brabant  who  were  molded 
after  the  model  of  Philip,  Count  Hoorne. 

These  are  some  few  of  the  per  sonde :  representative 
men,  who  partly  took  their  shape  and  color  from  the 
age,  partly  molded  it  after  their  own  pattern;  and  a 
many-shaped,  many-sided  embodiment  it  was. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  April,  year  1566, 
Brussels  was  heaving  with  irrepressible  excitement,  be- 
cause a  long  cavalcade  of  the  noble  confederates  had 
just  entered  the  city,  and  was  winding  through  the 
thronged  streets.  This  was  at  last  an  open  declara- 
tion ;  for  the  knightly  band  counted  two  hundred  cava- 
liers, all  proper  specimens  of  Netherland  chivalry,  all 
worthy  to  be  sons  of  kings.  The  great  athlete  at  their 
head  was  Count  Brederode,  whose  long,  fair  hair  curl- 
ing upon  his  broad  shoulders  still  asserted  his  direct 
descent  from  old  Dirk  of  Friesland,  or  rather  from 
Sikko,  Dirk's  younger  brother.  The  stately  cavalcade 
paused  before  the  palace  of  William  of  Nassau,  and 
then  dispersed  to  the  several  quarters  of  the  protest- 
ing knights;  while  the  "Bon  Chevalier"  and  the  tur- 
bulent Brederode  entered  the  mansion  of  The  Silent 
One.  Next  morning  there  was  a  rendezvous  at  Kulem- 
burg  House;  for  in  the  mean  time  Count  Kulemburg 


204  WILLIAM    THE    SILENT. 

had  ridden  into  town  at  the  head  of  another  long  line 
of  brilliant  cavaliers,  adding  some  hundred  and  fifty 
more  to  the  number  of  petitioners.  Two  and  two,  two 
and  two,  magnificently  appointed,  marched  the  knightly 
procession  at  noon,  clanking  along  through  the  fine 
street  that  stretched  between  Kulemburg  House  and 
the  vice-regal  palace  of  Duchess  Margaret.  The  vast 
concourse  of  people  left  a  narrow  lane  through  which  the 
petitioners  tramped;  but  its  living  walls  were  shaking 
with  the  irresistible  outbursts  of  applause  and  trembling 
with  deepest  sympathy.  It  was  the  "God  speed  you" 
of  a  whole  nation.  And  they  had  good  reason  to  wish 
well  to  the  noble  Leaguers  in  this  last  appeal — the  last, 
save  that  of  arms ;  for  men  and  women,  ay,  and  young 
children,  too,  had  been  perishing  by  thousands,  and  by 
tens  of  thousands,  from  their  midst.  The  hot  smoke 
of  their  burnings  had  curled  upward  to  the  sky  from 
thousands  of  autos-da-f^;  and  their  "cinders"  (that 
was  the  official  word)  —  their  "cinders"  had  been 
flung  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  streams.  Hideous 
entries  may  even  now  be  seen  in  official  archives:  so 
much  for  "torturing  so  and  so;"  so  much  for  "execut- 
ing them  by  fire  afterward,  and  for  scattering  their 
cinders  over  the  river."  A  man's  thoughts  were  not 
his  own.  Heaven's  high  prerogative  of  reading  the 
heart  was  claimed  by  the  gliding  emissaries  of  the 
"Holy  Office,"  who  heard  the  boards  creak  when  a 
man  knelt  in  his  closet,  and  poured  out  his  sorrowful 
soul  to  his  Father  who  seeth  in  secret.  Thoughts  were 
discovered,  and  registered  in  fatal  note-books.  Looks 
were  noticed,  and  brought  up  in  evidence  against 
startled  victims ;  and  there  was  scarce  a  sound  stirring 


A  SCENE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  THE  SILENT. 


APPEAL   TO   THE   VICEROY.  205 

in  the  air  whose  echo  was  not  caught  bj  the  great 
listening  Dionysius's  ear  of  the  Inquisition.  It  was 
no  marvel  that  the  people  broke  forth  into  that  irre- 
pressible "God  speed  ye,"  when  the  nobles  walked, 
two  and  two,  to  the  vice-regal  abode,  with  their  great 
national  petition — their  bill  of  rights. 

They  marched  through  the  hall  of  abdication,  where, 
ten  years  ago,  Charles  had  bequeathed  them,  body, 
soul,  and  estate,  to  his  son  Philip.  Margaret  of  Parma 
received  them  in  royal  state,  supported  by  a  brilliant 
retinue.  But  she  was  observed  to  be  agitated  and 
ashy  pale  while  Brederode  read  the  petition.  It 
claimed  that  she,  as  viceroy,  should  forthwith  dispatch 
an  envoy  to  their  king  in  their  name,  who  should  pray 
for  the  suppression  of  the  odious  edicts,  which  were, 
as  they  stated,  on  the  point  of  driving  the  whole  com- 
munity into  open  rebellion.  Tears  actually  coursed 
down  the  hard  cheeks  of  Charles's  daughter,  and  as 
soon  as  she  could  command  her  voice,  she  dismissed 
the  Leaguers,  with  the  promise  that  she  would  advise 
with  her  council  concerning  their  appeal.  In  truth, 
Margaret  of  Parma  had  again  and  again  represented 
to  Philip  that  this  stern  policy  was  driving  the  people 
to  desperation.  And  now  Orange,  unlocking  the  lips 
which  could  be  so  eloquent  at  will,  told  the  regent  that 
the  confederated  nobles  were  loyal  men  and  true,  gen- 
tly born,  honorably  connected,  impelled  by  no  vulgar 
ambition,  no  seditious  spirit,  but  by  the  honest  purpose 
to  rescue  their  country  from  ruin.  Whereupon  the 
Lord  Barlaimont,  minister  of  finance,  who  stood  beside 
him,  cried  out  with  indignant  contempt,  "What! 
Madam,  is  it  possible  that  you  can  be  afraid  of  these 

18 


206  WILLIAM    THE    SILENT. 

beggars?'''  The  word  used  was  gueux;  and  a  phrase 
flung  off  in  random  passion  was  caught  up  by  the 
echoes,  first  of  the  court,  next  of  the  city,  soon  of  the 
country,  and  then  of  the  age;  while  near  three  cen- 
turies of  subsequent  time,  under  the  grave  teaching 
of  history,  have  preserved  the  catch-word.  Next  day, 
and  again  two  days  later,  the  "beggars"  called  at  the 
palace,  to  enforce  the  prayer  of  their  petition.  Things 
were  waxing  serious.  But  nothing  could  be  done  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  any  more  than  in  the  nineteenth, 
without  a  great  dinner ;  and  the  banquet  was  given  to 
his  friends  by  the  convivial  Brederode.  While  the  wine 
circulated  in  goblets  of  gold  and  silver,  the  huge  host 
arose,  and  told  the  story  of  the  "Gueux"  to  his  nobly- 
born  guests.  "They  call  us  beggars!"  cried  he.  "Very 
well;  let  us  accept  the  name.  We  will  rebel  against 
the  Inquisition,  but  remain  loyal  to  the  king,  even  if 
driven  to  wear  the  beggar's  sack.  Bring  me  the  wallet !" 
And  an  attendant  page  produced  a  leathern  sack  and  a 
wooden  bowl,  just  such  as  formed  the  equipment  of 
regular  mendicant  monks  in  their  professional  rounds. 
And  then  the  noisy  descendant  of  old  Dirk  of  Fries- 
land  flung  the  sack  across  his  broad  shoulder,  and 
pouring  the  foaming  wine  into  the  wooden  bowl,  drank 
it  dry  without  drawing  breath.  With  the  next  panting 
breath  he  shouted  out,  "  Vivent  les  gueux !"  Each  noble 
in  his  turn  threw  around  his  neck  the  medicant's  wallet, 
and  drained  the  wooden  beaker,  passing  them  on  from 
shoulder  to  shoulder  and  mouth  to  mouth,  while  the 
banquet  hall  and  the  neighboring  street  rang  with  the 
strange,  wild  cry,  "Vivent  les  gueux !"  That  thought- 
less shout  of  the  revelers  was  the  watchword  of  a  great 


"LONG   LIVE   THE   BEGGARS."  207 

rebellion.  A  symbol  was  wanted,  a  badge,  a  battle- 
cry,  a  password.  It  mattered  little  what  these  were: 
Barlaimont  had  provided  them,  and  it  was  enough. 

William  of  Orange  and  the  Counts  Hoorne  and  Eg- 
mont  chanced  to  be  passing  before  the  Brederode  man- 
sion at  the  moment  when  the  future  motto  of  the 
"Revolt  of  the  Netherlands"  first  broke  from  the  lips 
of  the  excited  revelers.  "  We  shall  want  these  men  in 
conference  by-and-by,"  said  the  wise  Silent  One,  *'^nd 
they  are  making  themselves  unfit  for  debate."  Where- 
upon the  chiefs  entered  the  banqueting  hall,  to  learn 
the  reason  of  the  tumult,  and  to  counsel  moderation. 
But  they  were  instantly  beset  by  their  stormy  confed- 
erates, and  made  to  pledge  the  covenant  from  the  edge 
of  the  wooden  bowl,  amid  frantic  shouts  of  "Long  live 
the  Beggars!"  Only  a  few  moments  did  the  stately 
leaders  linger  in  such  an  outrageous  scene.  But  those 
moments  yielded  sufiicient  ground  on  which  to  reSt  one 
of  the  chief  heads  of  accusation  against  the  upright 
Hoorne  and  the  brilliant  Egmont;  and  the  ax  which 
descended  upon  their  necks  two  wretched  years  later 
in  time,  on  the  scaffold  of  Brussels,  amid  the  frantic 
sobs  of  their  compatriots,  was  suspended  above  them 
from  that  hour. 

The  great  cavalcade  of  princely  "Beggars"  passed 
out  of  the  city  on  the  tenth  of  April,  in  the  same  order 
as  they  had  swept  in;  but  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
sympathy  they  had  experienced,  each  turned  round  in 
his  saddle  as  he  left  the  walls,  and  fired  off  his  pistol 
by  way  of  salute.  The  rebellion  took  shape  from  that 
time.  High-born  young  noblemen  flung  away  their 
velvets,  satins,  and  gold  lace,  and  assumed  doublets 


208  WILLIAM    THE    SILENT. 

and  hosen,  coarse  in  material  and  ashen-gray  in  color. 
Over  their  shoulders  hung  a  short,  gray  cloak,  round 
the  neck  or  the  waist  was  suspended  a  leathern  wallet, 
and  at  the  side  clattered  a  wooden  bowl.  In  this  quaint 
costume  even  the  gallants  and  cavaliers  of  the  day 
lounged  about  the  streets.  They  carried  in  their 
hands  staves  of  elaborately-carved  wood,  still  more 
closely  to  represent  their  mendicant  calling.  A  knife 
was*an  understood  symbol,  a  spoon,  a  cup,  often  of  costly 
material  and  beautifully  inlaid.  Coins  were  struck  in 
copper,  gold,  or  silver,  bearing  the  head  of  King  Philip 
on  one  side,  and  on  the  reverse  two  clasped  hands, 
surrounded  by  the  motto,  "Fideles  au  roi — jusqu'  sL 
porter  la  besace:"  ("Faithful  to  the  king — even  to 
bearing  the  wallet.")  These  were  the  celebrated 
^^guesen'*  pence,  which  were  stuck  as  jewels  in  the 
beavers  of  the  confederates,  or  hung  as  medals  round 
their  neck.  The  princely  merchants  of  the  land  struck 
a  gueux  penny  of  their  own,  on  which,  instead  of  the 
hands  clasped  in  brotherhood,  they  placed  two  pilgrim's 
staves ;  to  show  that,  if  need  be,  they  were  ready  to  re- 
nounce all,  and  to  become  world-wanderers  for  the  faith. 
Instead  of  the  troops  of  liveried  retainers  which  had 
crowded  the  courts  of  the  wealthy  nobles  in  the  showy 
costume  of  the  house,  there  were  now  bands  of  men 
clad  in  the  ashen  colors  of  their  lords.  All  this  was 
no  passing  whim,  the  idle  caprice  of  a  moment:  it  was 
a  badge  of  brotherhood  which  bound  its  wearers,  one 
and  all,  to  a  life-long  struggle.  It  was  still  full  of 
vitality  when,  thirteen  years  later,  William  the  Silent 
accomplished  his  great  scheme  of  binding  together  the 
provinces  of    Holland,  Zealand,  Friesland,   Utrecht, 


TOMB   OF   *' FATHER   WILLIAM."  209 

Groningen,  Overyssel,  and  Guelderland,  into  one  great 
union,  under  the  famous  name  of  the  *'  Seven  United 
Provinces;"  alive  when  they  struck  their  first  national 
coin,  representing  a  ship  contending  with  the  furious 
waves,  with  no  sails,  no  oars,  but  with  this  legend 
around  her,  ^'Incertum  quo  fata  ferant,"  ("Uncertain 
whither  our  fate  may  bear  us;")  and  it  died  not  even 
in  that  mournful  hour  when  William  of  Orange  fell  at 
Delft,  at  the  feet  of  Balthazar  Gerard. 

In  the  province  of  South  Holland,  about  eight  miles 
from  Rotterdam,  stands  the  ancient  City  of  Delft,  per- 
haps the  oldest  in  the  Netherlands.  It  is  a  quaint  place, 
mapped  out  into  blocks  of  stiff  buildings  by  the  canals 
which  cut  it  in  all  directions.  These  watery  streets 
are  tied  together  by  a  multitude  of  bridges,  perhaps 
seventy  in  number.  In  the  midst  of  this  net-work  of 
canals  stands  the  Orange  palace,  the  Prisen-hof,  where 
fell  William  the  Silent ;  and  in  one  of  the  churches  of 
the  reformed  faith  is  the  stately  tomb  of  him  whom  the 
fond  people  call  "Father  William."  Other  members 
of  his  honored  house  lie  around;  and  hard  by  is  the 
tomb  of  Hugo  Grotius. 

Another  assassin  hand,  before  that  of  Balthazar 
Gerard,  had  tried  to  take  William's  life.  A  Biscayan 
merchant,  Gaspar  Anastra  by  name,  over  whose  cor- 
rupt soul  the  25,000  crowns  of  head-money  had  gained 
a  mercenary  power,  succeeded  in  bribing  one  of  Wil- 
liam's own  domestic  servants,  by  the  tempting  bait  of 
one-half  of  the  reward.  The  wretched  man  watched 
his  moment  when  the  prince  was  passing  from  the 
dining-hall  into  another  apartment.  He  took  aim, 
fired  his  pistol,  and  wounded  William  very  danger- 

18* 


210  WILLIAM   THE   SILENT. 

ously  just  behind  the  ear.  The  prince  fell,  senseless 
from  the  force  of  the  ball.  But  he  rallied  from  this 
desperate  injury. 

In  the  year  1584,  Balthazar  Gerard,  a  man  who 
had  served  William  with  seemingly  zealous  faithful- 
ness, was  admitted  into  the  Prisen-hof,  at  Delft,  to 
confer  with  his  master  concerning  an  important  mis- 
sion with  letters  into  France.  William  supplied  him 
with  money  to  meet  the  outlay  of  his  expedition;  and 
from  that  very  purse  Balthazar  Gerard  bought  the 
pistols  with  which  he  assassinated  his  lord.  But 
Spain  gained  nothing  by  the  dark  deed.  William, 
indeed,  was  removed  out  of  the  way ;  but  there  sprang 
up  in  his  place,  with  all  the  elasticity  of  youth,  with 
the  fire  of  military  genius,  with  the  early  promise 
even  at  eighteen  years  of  becoming  ere  long  the  great- 
est captain  of  his  age,  William's  brilliant  son,  the 
young  Stadtholder,  Maurice  of  Nassau. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  the  name  of  no  one  man 
is  more  frequently  mentioned  in  the  Low  Countries, 
than  the  name  of  William  I.,  Prince  of  Orange.  And 
surely  the  hearts  of  the  Hollanders  need  not  that  tune- 
ful reminder,  which,  hour  after  hour,  rings  forth  over 
the  flat  land  from  the  great  square  tower  of  the  church 
in  old  Delft,  whose  musical  chimes  sound  a  requiem 
over  the  tomb  of  William  the  Silent. 


THE    POLISH    "WIZARD 


y^ 


THE  WIZARD  HIMSELF. 

A  LOOK  THROUGH  THE  WINDOW  OF  THE  PAST. 

"Allah!  but  the  Wizard  is  among  them  sure  enough!"  So  spake  the  Khan  of  the  Tar- 
tars, as  he  stood  outside  the  walls  of  beleaguered  Vienna,  on  the  morning  of  September  12, 
1683.— Page  213. 


THE   POLISH   "WIZAKD." 


"Allah!  but  the  Wizard  is  among  them  sure 
enough!"  So  spoke  the  Khan  of  the  Tartars,  as  he 
stood  outside  the  walls  of  beleaguered  Vienna  on  the 
morning  of  September  12,  1683.  The  man  whom  he 
addressed  was  the  G-rand  Vizier,  Kara  Mustapha;  and 
together  the  keen  eyes  of  Tartar  and  Turk  looked  in 
the  direction  of  distant  Tuln.  A  warlike  host  was 
approaching  in  rapid  march:  it  numbered  70,000  men; 
and  above  it  floated  the  standards  of  Bavaria,  of  Sax- 
ony, of  Austria,  and  of  Poland.  It  was  not  the  array 
of  the  70,000  that  made  Turk  and  Tartar  turn  pale; 
for  a  perfect  ring,  made  of  200,000  men,  most  of  them 
turban ed,  and  all  of  them  under  the  terrible  stand- 
ard of  Mohammed,  encircled  the  crumbling  walls  of 
Vienna;  and  Vienna  was  starving.  But  the  khan 
knew  the  look  of  the  pennoned  lances  of  the  Polish 
hussars;  and  he  recognized  the  masterly  handling  of 
the  cavalry  that  were  rapidly  sweeping  up  toward  the 
very  spot  where  stood  the  gorgeous  tent  of  Kara  Mus- 
tapha. That  was  the  meaning  of  the  startled  words 
which  he  spake  to  the  vizier;  "Sure  enough,  the 
Wizard  is  among  them  himself!"  And  who  was  the 
"Wizard?" 

(213) 


214  THE    POLISH    "WIZARD." 

A  tremendous  storm  had  made  the  year  1629  mem- 
orable in  Polish  history ;  and  on  the  day  when  that  storm 
raged  its  worst  was  born  the  celebrated  John  Sobieski, 
at  the  feudal  castle  of  his  ancestors,  beside  the  sources 
of  the  Eivers  Bug  and  Bog,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Carpathian  Mountains,  and  near  the  confines  of  Lithu- 
ania, His  father  was  James  Sobieski,  Castellan  of 
Cracow,  a  man  of  learning  and  a  distinguished  general. 
The  father  bestowed  much  personal  care  on  the  training 
of  his  little  sons,  Mark  and  John;  and  then  he  sent 
them  off  to  Paris  to  complete  their  education.  It  was 
the  Paris  of  Cardinal  Mazarin,  when  Louis  XIY.  was 
yet  in  his  infancy,  and  when  the  restless  minds  of  a 
brilliant  community  existed  upon  the  excitements  of 
intrigue  and  on  the  daily  food  of  party  politics.  When 
John  was  old  enough  to  enter  on  the  military  career, 
he  was  received  among  the  "mousquetaires,"  or  body- 
guard of  young  Louis.  The  handsome  young  Pole 
was  admitted  as  a  favored  guest  into  the  most  brilliant 
saloons  of  Paris.  In  the  sparkling  reunio7i8  of  the 
beautiful  Duchess  de  Longueville  he  used  to  encounter 
the  great  Cond^,  whose  eye  recognized  the  yet  unde- 
veloped power  which  gave  meaning  and  character  to 
his  face.  "There  is  a  splendid  destiny  in  store  for 
that  young  mousquetaire,"  said  the  great  Condd.  But 
the  Polish  brothers  were  not  disposed  to  spend  their 
lives  in  the  antechambers  of  the  Palais  Royal,  or  in 
the  saloons  of  the  H6tel  Longueville ;  and  they  set 
forth  on  their  travels  through  Italy  and  onward  to  the 
East.  They  were  at  Constantinople  when  news  reached 
their  ears  that  a  terrible  irruption  of  Cossacks  was 
sweeping  over  the  plains  of  Poland,  and   that   these 


POLAND    IN    PERIL.  215 

hordes  had  been  joined  bj  a  formidable  mass  of  Polish 
serfs.  And  so  the  young  travelers  instantly  returned 
to  their  distressed  country.  They  found  that  the  hard- 
riding  Cossacks  were  wreaking  their  persecuting  pro- 
pensities especially  upon  the  priests  and  the  Jews; 
while  they  made  every  monk  and  nun  whom  they  over- 
took marry  each  other  on  the  spot,  under  instant  pain 
of  death.  To  stop  this  scandal,  so  abhorrent  to  a 
Romish  mind,  and  to  help  their  trampled  country,  the 
brothers  offered  their  strong  arms  and  their  yet  un- 
stained swords.  The  prince  who  wore  the  elective 
crown  at  this  juncture  was  the  feeble  John  Casimir, 
who  was  but  ill  adapted  to  the  tempestuous  times  upon 
which  he  had  fallen.  The  yoiing  John  Sobieski  served 
with  distinction  in  the  conflicts  which  ensued;  but 
Mark,  the  elder  brother,  died  in  battle,  leaving  to 
John  the  inheritance  of  the  vast  wealth  and  broad 
estates  of  the  Sobieski  family.  Our  hero  was  now 
twenty  years  of  age;  and  such  was  his  first  launch 
upon  the  stormy  sea.  He  had  much  to  do  in  battling 
with  the  wild  currents  of  invasion ;  for  Poland  was  in 
this  age,  as  afterward,  the  object  of  covetousness  to 
all  neighboring  countries;  and  under  the  desolating 
invasions  of  Russians  and  Tartars,  Turks  and  Swedes, 
she  well-nigh  ceased  to  exist  as  a  separate  nation. 
John  turns  this  way  and  turns  that,  beats  everybody, 
and  is  occasionally  beaten  himself.  His  name  is  begin- 
.ning  to  be  known  to  all  the  echoes  of  Europe  as  the 
preux  chevalier  of  the  day;  and  now  he  writes  him- 
self "Grand  Marshal  and  Grand  Hetman  of  Poland." 
But  about  this  time,  the  year  1665,  he  made  a  false 
move,  which  involved  the  remainder  of  his  days    in 


216  THE   POLISH    "WIZARD." 

difficulties  worse  than  those  from  which  he  had  so  bril- 
liantly extricated  himself  with  Muscovite  or  Mussul- 
man. When  Louise  de  Gonzague  had  come  into 
Poland  as  the  bride  of  the  king,  John  Casimir,  she 
had  in  her  sparkling  train  a  young  lady  of  singular 
beauty  and  of  keen  wit.  This  was  the  celebrated 
Marie,  daughter  of  Henri  de  la  Grange,  Marquis 
d'Arquien,  a  gentleman  of  a  fine  old  French  family. 
There  was  that  flash  of  beauty  about  Marie,  and  that 
restless  activity  of  mind  which  insured  power  wherever 
she  went;  but  it  was  that  sort  of  power  which  is 
gained  by  fascination  and  preserved  by  intrigue.  The 
brave  and  honest  soldier  was  not  proof  against  the 
wiles  of  the  siren,  and  gave  her  a  hearty  affection, 
which  lasted,  notwithstanding  all  provocations,  to  the 
day  of  his  death. 

The  year  1667  saw  another  terrible  inundation 
of  Cossacks  and  Tartars:  but  these  Tvere  rebellions 
rather  than  invasions;  for  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the 
Polish  kingdom,  or  rather  republic  with  an  elective 
crown,  (perhaps  the  most  vicious  and  impracticable  of 
all  forms,)  faded  away  into  the  vast  steppes  of  Mus- 
covy. The  eagles  of  Poland  were  accustomed  to 
spread  the  wing  in  one  wide  stretch  from  the  Baltic  to 
the  Euxine,  from  Smolensk  on  the  east  to  Bohemia  on 
the  west.  It  was  the  broad  Scythia  of  the  ancient 
times.  In  the  great  straits  and  stress  of  the  moment, 
the  republic  found  itself  without  an  army,  and  with 
empty  coffers.  The  grand  hetman  pledged  his  private 
property,  and  gathered  20,000  men  around  his  colors, 
turned  the  victorious  career  of  the  100,000  Cossacks 
and  Tartars  into  swift  flight,  and  saved  Poland.     But 


THE   CRESCENT   AGAIN.  217 

a  more  inveterate  danger  menaced  the  land.  The 
Crescent,  which  had  set  in  the  West  more  than  nine 
centuries  before,  over  the  field  of  Tours,  rises  again  on 
the  east  of  Europe,  and  resumes  its  victorious  career. 
Again  it  sets  forth  to  subdue  Christendom,  and  to  bend 
it  to  the  creed  of  the  Prophet.  Let  us  see  if  another 
Charles  Martel  will  arise  for  the  defense  of  the  Chris- 
tian world;  let  us  see  if  a  "Hammer"  will  again  be 
found,  hard  enough  to  break  the  edge  of  the  cimeter. 
In  the  sixteenth  century,  the  empire  of  the  Otto- 
mans had  been  the  most  powerful  in  the  world,  and  the 
most  aggressive.  Every  conquered  land  became  in- 
stantly a  military  colony,  wherein  prevailed  despotism 
in  its  purest,  that  is  to  say,  its  most  complete  and  per- 
fect type.  The  turbaned  lord  of  this  great  empire, 
the  chief  of  this  vast  camp,  used  to  date  his  decrees 
"from  the  imperial  stirrup;"  and  every  head  which 
was  lifted  up  in  expostulation  was  instantly  ridden 
down,  and  trampled  into  death's  passive  obedience.  In 
the  full  persuasion  that  now  at  last  the  hour  was  come, 
in  the  tardy  lapse  of  centuries,  for  the  Koran  to  be  the 
statute-book  of  Europe,  and  for  the  great  name  of  the 
Prophet  to  be  cut  with  the  point  of  cimeter  on  the 
turf  of  every  Christian  land.  Sultan  Mahmoud  IV. 
rode  into  Poland  at  the  head  of  150,000  Turks  and 
100,000  Tartars.  The  King  of  Poland  was  no  longer 
the  feeble  John  Casimir;  he  was  the  yet  feebler 
Michael;  a  man  who  wept  and  trembled  when  the  elec- 
tive nobility  on  the  broad  plain  of  Vola  placed  the 
painful  crown  on  his  throbbing  head.  Once  there, 
however,  he  owned  the  spell  of  power  which  dwelt  in 
the  glittering  circlet,  and  was  by  no  means  willing  to 

19 


218  THE    POLISH    "WIZARD." 

lay  it  aside,  though  broad  were  the  hints  Avhich  were 
whispered  by  kind  friends  that  it  fitted  ill,  and  that  his 
temples  would  be  easier  without  it.  Michael  weakly 
temporized  with  the  sultan,  while  Sobieski  was  scouring 
about  and  beating  the  Osmanlis  wherever  there  was 
the  faintest  hope  of  success.  The  Turks  had  overrun 
Podolia,  and  the  Crescent  was  shining  from  the  great 
fortress  of  Kaminiec,  which  was  ever  held  to  be  the 
stronghold  of  Poland,  and  the  very  bulwark  of  her 
border.  Michael  thereon  made  an  ignominious  treaty 
with  the  Turk,  whereby  he  ceded  not  only  Podolia,  but 
the  Ukraine ;  and  he  at  the  same  time  soothed  his  own 
jealousy,  by  outlawing  the  only  man  in  his  kingdom 
who  could  help  him,  and  by  setting  a  price  upon  his 
head.  The  disgraceful  treaty  of  Boudchaz,  signed 
betwixt  Crescent  and  Cross  in  October,  1672,  was  so 
intolerable  to  the  Polish  Diet,  and  particularly  to  the 
grand  hetman,  (whom  the  foolish  king  had  been  obliged 
by  this  time  to  restore  to  his  just  rights,)  that  they 
carried  a  resolution  declaring  it  void,  because  passed 
without  the  concurrence  of  that  body.  It  is  too  late 
now  to  decide  whether  a  lofty  standard  of  international 
morality  were  lowered  by  this  resolution  of  the  Diet, 
or  whether  the  nobles  had  right  and  justice  on  their 
side.  It  reads  like  a  more  than  dubious  passage  of 
history,  when  we  go  on  to  find  that  the  Diet  resolved 
thus  to  rescind  the  treaty  and  to  resume  the  war.  At 
all  events,  John  Sobieski  was  again  free  to  act;  and 
he  determined  to  assail  the  intrenched  camp,  where 
80,000  Turks  were  living  and  reveling  in  oriental 
luxury. 

Hussein  Pasha  was  the  great  man  of  the  host.     The 


THE   MOSLEM    STRONGHOLD.  219 

strong  castle  of  Kotzira,  or  Choczim,  as  it  is  sometimes 
called,  frowned  over  the  Dnieper  from  a  flying  buttress 
of  giant  rocks  which  ran  out  into  the  river.  On  the 
landward  side,  profound  ravines,  bristling  with  rocks, 
plowed  up  all  avenue  of  approach,  and  trenched  the 
Moslem  citadel.  The  hosts  of  the  misbelievers  were 
even  defended  by  ramparts  scarped  out  of  the  hard 
face  of  the  living  rock ;  and  there,  within  trenched 
camp  and  battlemented  castle,  planted  with  a  powerful 
artillery,  Hussein  and  his  80,000  sipped  their  Mocha 
and  smoked  the  long  pipe  of  dreamy  security.  Pres- 
ently the  eagles  of  Poland  and  the  pennoned  lances  of 
John  Sobieski's  own  hussars  were  seen  sweeping  up  to 
the  very  front  of  the  forbidding  intrenchments.  It 
was  the  11th  of  December,  1673;  and  no  wonder  that 
the  Moslems  stroked  their  beards,  and  called  the  man 
a  "Wizard"  who  came  to  work  his  incantations  at  such 
an  hour  and  in  such  a  place.  The  hetman  drew  up  his 
tired  men,  (they  were  only  half  the  number  of  the 
Turks,)  planted  his  forty  guns,  and  battered  something 
like  a  breach  in  the  intrenchments  of  the  Moslem 
camp.  When  night  fell,  there  was  a  movement  in  the 
Turkish  lines,  and  over  came  the  Christian  bands  of 
the  Moldavians  and  Wallachians,  to  shake  the  hands 
and  to  share  the  fortunes  of  their  brethren  in  the  faith. 
This  was  a  cheering  omen  to  the  sleepless  Sobieski ; 
but  the  night  was  a  season  of  untold  misery,  of  wild 
winds,  and  driving  snows.  The  Polish  ranks  were 
half  buried  in  the  frozen  drifts,  and  yet  all  night  were 
they  under  arms.  In  the  late  dawn  of  the  morning,  a 
tall  figure,  his  shoulders  and  arms  piled  with  snow,  his 
crisped  hair  hung  all  round  with  pendant  icicles,  his 


220  THE    POLISH    "WIZARD." 

moustache  drooping  with  the  same,  plunged  through 
the  deep  drifts,  and  said,  in  a  cheery  voice,  "Com- 
panions !  it  is  for  us  to  save  the  republic  from  shame 
and  slavery.  Recollect  that  you  fight  for  your  coun- 
try, and  that  Christ  is  with  you." 

It  was  a  curious  coincidence  that  this  memorable 
day  in  Polish  history  was  the  fete-day  of  St.  Martin 
of  Tours — that  Tours  against  whose  walls  the  great 
western  wave  of  Moslem  invasion  broke,  and  then  re- 
tired in  foaming  dismay  behind  the  sheltering  sierras 
of  Spain.  "Doubt  not,"  cried  the  priests  who  had 
accompanied  Sobieski  to  the  snow-fields  of  Kotzim — 
"doubt  not  that  the  blessed  St.  Martin  of  Tours  will 
give  us  the  help  of  his  intercession  this  day.  Know 
ye  that  St.  Martin  was  himself  a  Slavonian?  And 
what  may  we  not  expect  from  his  zeal  for  the  holy 
cause  ?  He  is  pledged  to  aid  us  by  miracle-working 
on  this  his  very  festival."  And  the  confident  priests 
said  mass  three  times  in  succession  on  the  snow. 

Not  because  of  "the  intercession  of  a  dead  saint ;  not 
because  of  the  thrice-chanted  mass;  not  because  a 
mortal  fight,  with  all  its  fell  outbursts  of  deadly  pas- 
sions, deserved  a  victory,  did  the  intrepid  Sobieski  that 
day  plant  the  standard  of  the  Cross  and  the  eagle  of 
Poland  on  the  stormed  ramparts  of  the  Turk;  but  be- 
cause God  in  his  mercy  saw  fit  to  deliver  Christendom 
from  its  great  peril.  We  must  undoubtingly  refer  all 
these  great  and  decisive  events  in  history  to  the  over- 
ruling will  of  Him  who  is  "wonderful  in  counsel,  and 
excellent  in  working."  So  ended  the  great  day  of 
Kotzim.  Europe  resounded  with  joyful  congratula- 
tions, and  with  the  swelling  chant  of  the  "Te  Deum;" 


A    VAST   ASSEMBLAGE.  221 

but  it  is  no  pleasure  to  count  the  blood-stained  turbans 
which  floated  away  on  the  half-frozen  flood  of  the 
Dnieper,  or  to  compute  the  value  of  the  booty — jeweled 
attaghans  and  priceless  shawls,  silken  tents  and  Damas- 
cus blades — with  which  the  heavy-laden  Poles  broke 
their  ranks  and  returned,  in  twos  and  threes,  to  their 
homes,  leaving  their  brave  leader  almost  alone  and 
helpless  on  the  border-land  of  Christendom.  At  the 
news  of  Hussein  Pasha's  defeat,  the  Capitan  Pasha, 
who  was  marching  a  fresh  army  into  Poland,  set  fire 
to  his  camp,  turned  his  horse's  head,  fled  across  the 
Danube,  and  never  drew  rein  until  he  could  shelter  his 
'frighted  host  at  the  foot  of  the  Balkan.  At  the  news 
that  the  conquering  army  had  itself  melted  away  like 
the  snow-drifts,  the  Capitan  Pasha  wheeled  his  horse 
round  again,  and  looking  back  at  his  flying  foot-tracks, 
thought  that  th*^  pleasant  western  world  might  yet  be 
won  to  the  C.  ^dcent. 

The  scene  shifts  to  the  banks  of  the  Vistula.  There 
is  a  vast  assemblage  of  turbulent  nobles  on  the  great 
plain  of  Vola,  within  sight  of  the  spires  of  Warsaw. 
What  mean  this  tented  city,  these  silken  pavilions,  this 
waving  army  of  banners,  this  swaying  forest  of  lances, 
these  tempests  of  party  cries?  Here  are  huge  piles 
of  arms ;  here  are  enormcus  banquet- tables,  glittering 
with  goblets  golden  and  jewel-set,  and  surrounded  by 
brawling  guests;  and  here  are  showy  cavalcades  of 
velvet  and  fur-clad  gentlemen  discussing  State  interests 
at  a  hand-gallop,  and  suddenly  wheeling  round  in  the 
saddle,  to  point  their  argument  with  the  prick  of  a 
saber.  Magic  apart,  can  this  be  a  scene  in  Europe  ? 
In  Europe,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 

19* 


222  THE   POLISH    "WIZAKD." 

tury;  for  it  is  the  1st  of  May,  1674.  What  then  are 
these  palaces  of  Persian  silks,  and  Indian  muslins,  and 
Siberian  furs,  these  domes,  and  minarets,  and  gilded 
pagodas?  They  are  in  very  truth  the  tents  of  the 
Sultan  Mahmoud,  and  many  of  the  glittering  treasures 
are  the  rifled  spoils  of  Kotzim.  But  the  meaning  of 
all  this  display? — the  common-sense  clew  that  runs 
through  all  this  labyrinth  of  barbaric  luxury?  Not 
much  common  sense,  forsooth;  but  this  is  the  great 
election  to  the  crown;  and  these  are  the  polling-booths 
of  empire.  The  man  upon  whom  the  suffrages  of  this 
Slavonian  constituency  shall  settle,  will  be  elected  to 
sit  among  the  stately  brotherhood  of  kings  and  kaisers; 
yet  not  on  the  raised  dais  of  hereditary  descent;  be 
sure  the  haughty  figures  with  the  heavy  crowns  of 
ancient  make  upon  their  heads,  the  Bourbon  Louis  or 
the  Hapsburg  Leopold,  will  place  '' beneath  the  salt"  a 
parvenu  who  has  had  to  go  to  the  hustings  of  Yola. 
Any  single  member  of  the  arrogant  crowd  of  nobles  is 
himself  eligible  for  the  throne;  and  the  consciousness 
that  the  trembling  candidate  must  go  round  hat  in 
hand  to  beg  for  the  votes  of  the  privileged  orders,  gives 
to  the  bearing  of  the  elector  that  insolence  and  this 
fierce  independence.  Here  come  the  princes,  pala- 
tines, and  prelates.  Each  noble  has  drawn  off  the 
glove  from  one  hand,  in  order  to  display  the  signet-ring 
on  which  are  graven  the  arms  of  his  ancient  house.  It 
is  the  symbol  of  his  membership  in  the  equestrian 
order.  Look  at  the  costly  magnificence  of  their  arms : 
battle-axes  enchased  with  silver,  that  is  itself  green 
with  emeralds  and  blue  with  incrusting  sapphires; 
shields    of    exquisite    workmanship;    cimeters   whose 


KING   MICHAEL   DEAD.  223 

handles  are  rough  with  brilliants;  and  the  gilded  bows 
and  arrows  that  represent  the  ancient  Slavic  races. 
It  is  said  that  many  of  the  poorer  gentlemen  carried 
their  whole  fortune  about  them  in  furs  and  weapons ; 
and  that  many  had  sold  their  vote  to  one  or  other  of 
the  candidates  for  the  glitter  of  an  added  diamond  or 
the  weight  of  another  gold  chain  about  their  neck. 
Those  fierce  men  with  the  caps  of  panther-skin,  plumed 
with  the  feathers  of  the  eagle  or  the  heron,  are  half- 
reclaimed  barbarians  from  the  eastern  confines  of  the 
kingdom.  Their  robes  are  of  the  finest  sables  and 
ermines,  and  the  girdle  which  confines  them  is  stiff" 
with  brilliants.  But  the  humble  chief-pastors  of  the 
flock,  the  bishops  and  archbishops?  They  indulge  in 
the  bravery  of  red  pantaloons,  or  else  yellow  ones,  set 
off"  with  many-colored  embroidery,  and  topped  with 
hats  of  green  or  gray.  The  outer  edge,  the  torn  hem 
of  all  this  costly  array,  is  made  up  of  the  miserable 
starving  people,  who  have  come  with  their  haggard 
stare  to  devour  the  hollow  pageant;  truly  a  sorry 
fringe  for  so  brave  a  garment ! 

The  impracticable  king,  Michael,  is  dead;  and  sev- 
eral candidates  are  on  the  field.  There  is  Charles  of 
Lorraine,  who  is  supported  by  the  influence  of  Austria, 
and  there  is  the  Prince  of  Neuburg,  who  is  backed  by 
Louis  XIV.  The  suffrages  seem  to  be  nearly  equal. 
The  excited  constituencies  send  off"  in  haste  for  their 
grand  hetman,  to  know  what  is  his  mind  in  the  mat- 
ter. They  had  not  seen  their  hero  since  the  great  day 
of  Kotzim.  The  senate  and  high  noblesse  ride  forth 
to  meet  him,  as  he  comes  with  a  small  retinue  along 
the  road  from  Varsovia ;  but  there  is  sufficient  effect  in 


224  THE    POLISH    "WIZARD." 

his  approacli,  because  there  are  borne  before  him  the 
captured  standards  of  the  Moslem  host.  The  assem- 
bly greets  him  with  wild  enthusiasm.  "And  what  will 
their  hetman  say?  Shall  it  be  the  Lorraine  or  the 
Neuburg?"  "Give  the  crown  to  the  great  Cond^," 
said  John  Sobieski.  This  is  a  new  perplexity;  and  so 
for  twenty  days  the  palatines,  prelates,  and  nobles 
rode  about,  and  wrangled,  and  feasted,  and  intrigued, 
until  the  well-esteemed  palatine,  Stanislaus  Jablanowski, 
arose  and  said:  "Let  a  Pole  reign  over  Poland.  I  pro- 
pose the  conqueror  of  Kotzim."  It  was  as  if  an  elec- 
tric spark  ran  through  the  whole  multitude.  "Long 
live  King  John  the  Third!"  was  the  cry.  "We  will 
all  die,  or  we  will  have  John  Sobieski  for  our  king!" 
cried  the  fiery  nobles  whom  he  had  so  often  led  to  vic- 
tory; while  they  shook  their  sabers  in  the  air  with 
ominous  meaning.  And  so  on  Monday  the  21st  of 
May,  1674,  John  Sobieski  was  proclaimed  king  by  the 
voice  of  the  whole  nation ;  and  the  good  news  resounded 
throughout  Europe.  This  was  a  great  day  for  Marie- 
Casimire,  the  beautiful  and  brilliant  French  woman. 
And  then  John  III.  looked  around  upon  his  showy  but 
poverty-stricken  land.  The  very  crown  jewels  were  in 
pledge  to  the  Jews;  the  treasury  was  swept  clean;  and 
but  a  few  thousand  men  held  together  as  a  standing 
army :  and  yet,  here  come  the  Turks  again !  John  re- 
deems the  jewels  from  his  private  funds,  collects  a  few 
fresh  regiments,  and  rides  forth  to  meet  the  Crescent. 
Mahmoud  IV.  had  again  been  dreaming;  and  he 
dreamed  that  the  Crescent  was  now  to  shine  over  all 
the  fields  of  Christendom,  over  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
West;    and    that   the   road   to   universal    empire   lay 


"SHA'iTAN"   AND   THE    "WIZARD.'*  225 

through  Poland.  But  no!  The  Muezin  crj  for  all 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world  to  turn  their  face  toward 
Mecca,  must  have  sounded  an  hour  too  soon;  for  be- 
hold, the  mighty  general,  Achmet-Kiuperli,  has  to  march 
the  army  of  the  Faithful  back  again  over  the  frontier, 
just  because  a  "Wizard"  riding  at  the  head  of  a  few 
mounted  peasants  had  waved  them  back.  Whereon 
Mahmoud  IV.  took  a  fresh  pipe,  and  said  to  his  grave 
divan  of  viziers  and  three-tailed  pashas,  "Next  year, 
and  I  will  send  'Shaitan'*  himself  to  meet  this  wily 
wizard."  Now  the  man  who  bore  in  the  wars  of  the 
East  the  terrible  name  of  "Shaitan,"  was  the  Pasha 
of  Damascus.  This  formidable  captain  of  the  dark 
host  sure  enough  led  a  tremendous  array  into  Poland 
at  the  coming  of  the  next  season.  But  John  was 
again  ready  with  a  small  following,  although  he  had 
but  just  emerged  from  a  great  domestic  danger.  Con- 
spiracies, created  by  jealousy,  had  been  formed  to  take 
away  his  life;  but  with  his  wonted  magnanimity  he 
pardoned  the  discovered  criminals,  and  stopped  all 
legal  process  against  them.  And  now  for  the  combat 
betwixt  "Shaitan"  and  the  "Wizard."  The  latter 
held  his  ground  for  weeks  within  an  intrenched  camp, 
from  which  no  power  of  the  Moslem  could  drive  him; 
and  at  last  he  led  out  such  a  little,  wasted  band  of  vet- 
eran followers,  that  the  startled  Turks  cried  out  and 
said,  "Mishallah!  but  it  can  never  be  a  mere  man  who 
would  risk  such  odds  as  these !  It  is  useless  to  con- 
tend with  a  wizard  king.  In  the  name  of  the  prophet, 
let  us  make  haste  and  go  home  again!"     Now  "Shai- 

*  Shaitan,  i.e.  Satan. 


226  THE   POLISH    "WIZARD." 

tan"  knew  better  than  this;  but  he  did  not  relish  the 
look  of  the  loftj-browed  man  with  the  little  crisp  curls 
all  gather.ed  together  on  the  top  of  his  fine  head:  and 
he  knew,  moreover,  that  a  levy  "en  masse'  of  the 
whole  kingdom  was  nigh  at  hand.  And  so  he  said  to 
the  tall  man  with  the  little  tight  curls,  the  intrepid 
eye,  the  firm  mouth,  and  the  double  chin,  "Let  us  be 
at  peace;"  and  an  honorable  peace  was  signed  between 
these  two  high  contracting  parties  on  the  29th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1676.  The  disgraceful  tribute  imposed  by  the  late 
King  Michael's  humiliating  treaty  of  Boudchaz  was 
canceled,  while  two-thirds  of  the  disputed  Ukraine 
were  restored  to  Poland. 

Peace  was  a  strange  visitant  in  Poland;  a  strange 
sound.  It  was  like  a  sweet  echo  that  had  lost  its  way, 
and  wandered  from  some  more  favored  land.  But 
actually  there  was  peace  for  Poland,  and  the  weary 
land  kept  its  Sabbath  of  rest  for  seven  years.  John 
Sobieski  was  not  great  as  a  statesman,  and  the  nobles 
were  too  lawless  to  tolerate  any  of  the  reforms  which 
he  from  time  to  time  attempted  to  introduce.  More- 
over, his  "charmante  Mariette,"  as  he  still  called  her, 
was  the  evil  influence  of  his  hearth  and  of  his  realm. 
Mariette's  veto  and  Mariette's  intrigues  were  as  fatal 
to  John  Sobieski's  prosperity  as  the  veto  of  the  privi- 
leged nobles,  wherewith  they  contrived  to  dissolve  every 
Diet  in  which  any  wholesome  measure  emanated  from 
the  king.  There  was  a  strange  welding  together  of 
strength  and  weakness  in  the  iron  and  the  clay  of  John 
Sobieski's  character.  With  a  better  wife  and  a  purer 
creed,  he  might  have  left  a  yet  more  heroic  inscription 
upon  the  age  in  which  he  lived.     But  the  seventeenth 


VIENNA    BESIEGED.  227 

century  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  beloved  name  of  its 
Gustavus  Adolphus.  John  Sobieski,  however,  will 
soon  be  in  his  proper  element  again.  His  firmest  seat 
is  the  saddle  of  his  charger;  and  Mariette  is  always 
left  at  home  when  her  lord  rides  to  the  wars.  John 
had  conceived  the  idea  of  uniting  the  powers  of  Chris- 
tendom in  solemn  league  against  the  encroaching  career 
of  Islam.  He  had  seen  from  his  Polish  confines  that 
Mahmoud  IV.  was  again  making  vast  preparations  for 
the  realization  of  his  life's  one  great  vision,  the  plant- 
ing of  the  moony  Crescent  upon  the  towers  of  every 
capital  of  the  West.  But  he  will  try  another  road  into 
Christendom  this  time,  and  it  shall  lead  through  Hun- 
gary, whose  brave  people,  driven  to  rebellion  by  the 
cruel  oppression  of  Austria,  will  be  willing  guides  to 
the  gates  of  Vienna.  Peradventure  the  curse  will 
work  now,  the  incantation  prosper. 

It  was  now  the  14th  of  July,  1683,  and  the  grand 
vizier,  Kara  Mustapha,  at  the  head  of  200,000  men, 
had  marched  up  out  of  Hungary,  and  had  pitched  his 
great  city  of  silken  pavilions  all  round  the  walls  of 
Vienna.  The  Emperor  Leopold  and  his  family  had 
just  fled  in  terrified  haste  from  the  city,  which  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  defend.  He  had  given  the  com- 
mand of  the  garrison  to  the  brave  Count  Stahremberg, 
the  imperial  forces  without  the  walls  to  Charles  of  Lor- 
raine; and  he  now  busied  himself  in  sending  flying 
couriers  to  the  diff'erent  courts  of  threatened  Europe, 
entreating  their  instant  aid  against  the  common  foe. 
Sobieski  had  no  personal  friendship  with  the  proud 
house  of  Hapsburg.  Leopold  was  continually  in- 
triguing against  him.      But  as   a  Christian  king  he 


228  THE    POLISH    "wizard." 

felt  bound  to  defend  a  Christian  country  imperiled 
by  the  misbelievers;  and  having  collected  an  army  of 
16,000  men,  he  set  forth  for  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
on  chivalrous  knight-errantry.  In  the  mean  time  the 
artillery  of  the  grand  vizier  had  been  pounding  away  at 
the  feeble  walls  of  Vienna  for  eight  weeks,  and  they 
had  crumbled  before  it.  The  garrison  at  the  first  con- 
sisted of  20,000  men,  but  hunger,  sword,  and  sickness 
had  already  mown  down  two-thirds  of  their  number. 
The  dismal  sound  of  falling  bastions  was  continually 
heard;  and  the  hungry  inhabitants,  together  with  the 
harassed  soldiers,  were  ever  at  work,  throwing  up  in- 
trenchments  in  the  streets,  and  blocking  the  way  into 
their  poor  houses  by  such  hasty  barricades  as  despair 
could  devise.  Every  night  there  were  fiery  signals  of 
distress  gleaming  out  from  the  tops  of  the  steeples,  re- 
peating with  eloquent  tongues  of  flame  the  forceful 
words  of  Stahremberg's  last  dispatch  to  Charles  of 
Lorraine,  *'No  more  time  to  lose,  my  lord;  no  more 
time  to  lose."  And  now  the  brave  commandant  knows 
that  the  city  can  hold  out  but  three  days  longer;  for 
he  sees  that  the  breaches  are  practicable,  and  that  his 
handful  of  men  would  be  but  as  reeds  stemming  a  win- 
try torrent,  when  the  terrible  foe  should  mount  to  the 
assault.  On  the  night  of  the  eleventh  of  September, 
the  anxious  watcher  on  the  top  of  the  steeple  of  St. 
Stephen's  sees  an  arrow  of  flame  suddenly  shoot  up- 
ward from  the  heights  of  the  Kalemberg,  which  over.- 
look  Vienna  in  the  direction  of  Tuln.  The  imperial 
forces  had  been  awaiting  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube 
the  tardy  aid  of  Christendom.  It  seemed  as  though 
they  dare  not  stir  until  the  wonderful  man  from  Cra- 


THE   DELIVERER.  229 

COW  should  march  into  their  camp  with  his  Polish  hus- 
sars. At  last  John  Sobieski  with  difficulty  gathered 
together  his  troops,  and  appeared  at  the  rendezvous. 
There  were  princes  of  almost  all  the  sovereign  houses 
of  Europe,  (among  them  the  youthful  Eugene  of  Sa- 
voy,) electors  of  the  empire,  imperial  generals — all 
awaiting  in  impatient  anxiety  the  coming  of  the  Pole; 
and  when  he  came,  riding  at  the  head  of  his  oriental- 
looking  cavalry,  with  their  gorgeous  dresses,  splendid 
arms,  and  beautiful  steeds,  he  was  welcomed  with  tears 
of  joy  as  the  one  deliverer  of  Europe.  The  Polish 
foot-soldiers  made  a  very  inferior  show  to  the  dazzled 
eyes  of  the  imperialists,  but  John  Sobieski  extended 
his  mailed  hand,  as  he  pointed  them  out  to  the  by- 
stander, and  said,  "Look  well  at  those  men:  they  have 
vowed  never  to  change  their  clothes  until  they  can 
dress  in  Turkish  vestments." 

The  Duke  of  Lorraine  had  thrown  a  bridge  across 
the  great  river  of  Austria;  but  there  were  still  five 
leagues  of  mountain  paths,  of  wild  ravines,  deep,  rocky, 
and  wooded,  between  the  delivering  host  and  the  crum- 
bled battlements  of  Vienna.  There  had  been  long 
rains;  there  were  swollen  streams;  and  the  German 
auxiliaries  demurred  about  the  march  across  the  bridge. 
"There  is  nothing  to  fear,"  cried  Sobieski;  "the  gen- 
eral at  the  head  of  300,000  men  who  allowed  that 
bridge  to  be  made,  is  sure  to  be  defeated."  And  so 
they  defiled  across  the  bridge,  and  scaled  the  heights 
of  the  Kalemberg.  It  was  the  Mons  ^tius  of  the  old 
Roman  period;  and  there,  on  the  barren  ridge,  camped 
the  Christian  host  on  the  night  of  the  11th  of  Septem- 

20 


230  THE    POLISH    "wizard." 

ber,  1688.  It  was  then  that  the  pledge  of  help  blazed 
up  to  the  evening  sky,  in  answer  to  the  fiery  pleadings 
from  the  turrets  of  the  leaguered  city;  and  there  was 
that  blessed  thing,  Hope,  for  the  starving,  the  wounded, 
and  the  fajLnt  within  the  yawning  walls.  There  was, 
in  truth,  a  sight  on  the  morrow  for  Christian  and  for 
Infidel:  for  the  former  there  was  the  broad  plain  of 
Vienna,  with  its  rolling  Danube  and  its  tributary  Wien 
— there,  the  countless  tents,  domed  and  gilded,  and 
there  the  great  scarlet  pavilion  of  Kara  Mustapha; 
for  the  Infidel,  there  was  the  unwelcome  sight  of  the 
Christian  army,  painfully  threading  its  way  downward 
through  the  five  encumbered  ravines,  in  five  narrow 
rivers  of  moving  life,  with  the  standards  of  Austria,  of 
Bavaria,  of  Saxony,  of  this  elector  and  of  that  sover- 
eign, flashing  and  playing  like  foam  upon  their  surface : 
ay,  and  one  other  standard  beside — the  royal  ensign 
of  the  Pole.  And  then  said  the  khan  of  the  Tartars, 
"Allah!  but  the  Wizard  is  among  them  sure  enough!" 
Kara  Mustapha  and  the  khan  then  watch  to  see  those 
cataracts  break  against  the  parapets  which  they  had 
thrown  up  across  the  stony  mouths  of  the  ravines. 
But  no :  the  tides  swept  over  them,  and  carried  onward 
the  recoiling  bands  of  Spahis  posted  there  in  order  to 
stem  their  course.  While  the  turbaned  chiefs  were 
anxiously  gazing  hillward,  there  was  confusion  in  the 
ranks  behind  them ;  for  Stahremberg  and  his  revived 
followers  were  lining  every  breach  in  the  walls,  and 
making  bold  sallies  at  the  tented  host.  As  the  Chris- 
tian squadrons  debouched  from  the  gorges  of  the  hills, 
they  all  formed  in  perfect  order,  and  moved  toward 
the  city.     In  the  afternoon  of  this  memorable  day, 


THE   SALLY   AND    THE    CHARGE.  231 

just  when  the  Turks  unfurled  the  great  standard  of 
Mohammed,  Sobieski,  with  his  waving  plume  on  his 
head,  and  his  golden  bow  and  quiver  of  old  Slavonia 
slung  at  his  shoulder,  dashed  at  the  Turkish  array. 
"Non  nobis,  Domine,  sed  tibi  sit  gloria!"  cried  he,  as 
he  charged  directly  against  the  spot  where  towered 
above  the  tented  field  the  great  scarlet  pavilion.  The 
stupor  of  Moslem  fatalism  had  by  this  time  steeped  the 
senses  of  the  grand  vizier,  and  he  was  sipping  cofiee 
at  the  door  of  his  magnificent  tent,  with  his  two  sons 
at  his  side.  But  the  excited  horses  of  the  Polish  lan- 
cers cleared  the  wide  ditch  at  a  bound,  and  crashed  up 
against  the  opposite  bank  with  such  an  irresistible 
shock  that  many  of  the  lances  were  fairly  shivered  into 
bits.  Kara  Mustapha  set  down  his  jeweled  coflfee-cup, 
and  sought  to  atone  by  a  paroxysm  of  spasmodic 
bravery  for  his  fatal  lethargy.  Too  late.  "  Canst  not 
thou  aid  me?"  said  Kara  to  the  Crimean  chief.  "It  is 
the  Polish  king  himself,"  was  the  reply;  ''I  know  him 
well !  Did  I  not  tell  thee  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
be  off  as  fast  as  possible?"  And  they  were  off— very 
fast  indeed.  But  all  the  pashas  were  not  so  swift 
of  foot.  The  pasha  of  Aleppo  is  down  before  the 
sabers  of  Jablanowski;  and  so  is  he  of  Silistria;  and 
there  are  four  other  pashas  among  the  slain.  The 
grand  standard  of  Mohammed  is  down  too.  It  is  now 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  John  Sobieski  is  him- 
self the  first  to  reach  the  scarlet  pavilion.  It  is  like  a 
vast  sumptuous  palace;  and  at  the  door  of  the  silk- 
hung  court  a  slave  stands,  holding  the  beautiful  charger 
of  his  vanished  lord  by  its  golden  bridle.  And  then 
Sobieski  plants  his  own  standard  above  the  broad  cur- 


232  THE   POLISH    "WIZARD." 

tained  city  of  the  slain  or  of  the  fled.  They  say  that 
the  moon  that  very  night  suffered  eclipse,  and  that  the 
flying  Moslems  gave  up  all  for  lost  when  they  saw  the 
symbol  of  their  faith  paling  in  the  evening  sky.  And 
what  a  day  in  European  history  was  the  morrow  after 
the  "  Raising  the  Siege  of  Vienna,"  when  Sobieski 
rode  through  the  deserted  camp,  and  then  entered  the 
metropolis  of  the  German  Empire  through  the  great 
breach  in  her  wall !  Without,  the  silent  semblance  of 
a  great  oriental  city,  a  "caravanserai,"  as  it  has  well 
been  called,  "of  all  the  nations  of  the  East:"  nay,  it 
was  like  a  huge  caravan,  bent  on  mysterious  pilgrim- 
age, and  heavy  with  the  gorgeous  offerings  which 
were  vowed  to  the  shrine  of  its  unhallowed  worship; 
but  some  strange  panic  had  startled  the  pilgrim  multi- 
tude, and  it  had  fled  under  the  curtained  moon  of  the 
night.  There  crouched  the  patient  camels  awaiting  the 
burden  of  the  day;  there  were  the  Arab  horses,  and 
the  fleet  barbs  of  Africa,  and  the  Tartar  steeds,  gor- 
geous with  the  housings  and  trappings  of  the  East, 
neighing  for  the  master's  hand  upon  the  bridle,  and 
pricking  their  ears  as  they  listened  for  his  jingling 
tread.  There  were  the  piled  arms  glistening  with  their 
inlaid  gems;  the  silken  sofas  and  the  velvet  hangings; 
the  jeweled  pipes,  and  the  cups  flung  to  the  ground: 
for  the  great  banquet  of  pilgrim  conquest  had  broken 
up  in  haste,  and  the  revelers  had  all  fled.  Within  the 
walls  of  Vienna,  there  was  such  joy  as  comes  with  a 
sudden  reprieve  from  impending  death.  Haggard 
figures  crept  up  out  of  cellars  and  from  the  dust- 
choked  recesses  of  tottering  homes,  and  clinging  round 
the  stirrup  of  Sobieski  in  weeping  crowds,  hailed  him 


DEATH    OF    SOBIBSKI.  233 

as  their  deliverer.  If  "Soljman  the  Magnificent" 
dated  his  edicts  of  extermination  from  his  golden  stir- 
rup, the  deliverance  of  rescued  Europe  may  be  said  to 
have  been  dated  from  the  stirrup  of  Sobieski.  Never, 
since  the  12th  of  September,  1683,  has  the  power  of 
the  Crescent  seriously  threatened  the  peace  or  the 
faith  of  Christendom. 

The  rest  of  the  tale  is  soon  told;  it  is  tame  and 
yet  troublous.  Sobieski  was  rewarded  with  the  grati- 
tude of  the  Austrians,  and  with  the  ingratitude  of 
their  jealous  kaiser.  He  returned  home  to  a  rest- 
less people  and  an  intriguing  wife,  neither  of  whom 
could  he  reform  or  subdue.  He  gave  the  golden  bridle 
of  Kara  Mustapha  to  his  Mariette;  and  he  sent  the 
great  standard  of  Mohammed  to  the  pope,  with  this 
paraphrased  laconism  of  the  Roman,  "I  came;  I  saw; 
God  hath  conquered.'' 

On  the  17th  of  June,  1696,  died  John  Sobieski, 
aged  sixty-seven.  That  day  was  the  double  anni- 
versary of  his  birth  and  of  his  election  to  the  throne 
amid  the  acclaims  of  the  field  of  Vola;  and  again  a 
tremendous  storm  was  chronicled  in  the  history  of 
Poland. 

Wordsworth's  fine  sonnet  on  Filicaia's  canzone  ad- 
dressed to  John  Sobieski,  upon  his  raising  the  siege  of 
Vienna,  may  fitly  conclude  this  historical  sketch : — 

"  Oh  for  a  kindling  touch  of  that  pure  flame 
Which  taught  the  offering  of  song  to  rise 
From  thy  lone  bower  beneath  Italian  skies, 
G-reat  Filicaia !     With  celestial  aim 

20* 


234  wokdsworth's  sonnet. 

It  rose,  thy  saintly  rapture  to  proclaim, 

Then,  when  the  Imperial  City  stood  released 
From  bondage  threaten'd  by  the  embattled  East ; 

And  Christendom  respir'd ;  from  guilt  and  shame 
Eedeem'd,  from  miserable  fear  set  free, 
By  one  day's  feat,  one  mighty  victory. 

Chant  the  Deliverer's  praise  in  every  tongue  1 

The  Cross  shall  spread,  the  Crescent  hath  wax'd  dim, 

He  conquering,  as  in  earth  and  heaven  was  sung — 
He  conquering  through  God,  and  God  hy  him" 


INNSBEiJCK  AND  ITS   ECHOES; 


OB, 


THE  KESCUE,  THE  RUN,  THE  BRIBE, 
AND  THE  RUIN. 


INNSBKUCK  AND  ITS  ECHOES; 

OB, 

THE  RESCUE,  THE  RUN,  THE  BRIBE,  AND  THE  RUIN. 


Have  you  ever  noticed  what  slight  regard  to  local 
beauty  has  been  shown  by  the  founders  of  many  of  our 
European  capitals  ?  A  glance  at'  their  situation  sug- 
gests the  idea,  that  the  somewhat  mythical  personages 
(whoever  they  were)  who  planted  the  first  stakes  and 
mapped  out  the  first  streets  of  many  a  metropolis  of 
the  West,  must  have  been  singularly  deficient  in  appre- 
ciation of  natural  beauty.  Look  at  Paris :  it  is  a  bril- 
liant and  a  beautiful  capital!  but  it  is  so  rather  in 
despite,  than  in  consequence  of,  its  position  on  that 
featureless  plain  beside  the  winding  Seine.  Look  at 
Madrid:  planted  apropos  to  nothing  at  all,  in  the 
midst  of  an  arid  flat,  which  in  summer  is  parched  into 
thirst  by  the  hot  breath  from  the  drowsy  sierras  in  the 
distance,  and  in  winter  shivers  under  the  unbroken 
sweep  of  the  winds  from  those  same  sierras,  now 
wrapped  in  their  glittering  shroud  of  snow.  Look  at 
Munich,  on  its  bare  and  lofty  platform:  there  are  ex- 
quisite sites  hard  by,  amid  those  green  slopes,  where 
the  beautiful  Tyrolean  Alps  are  shaded  oif  into  the 
dull  plains  of  Bavaria.     But  the  monks  who  founded 

(237) 


238  INNSBRUCK   AND   ITS   ECHOES. 

Munich,  and  gave  a  name  to  the  city,  (Munchen,)  had 
only  an  eye  to  their  profitable  merchandise  in  salt; 
and  hence,  around  their  old  warehouses  were  crystal- 
lized by  degrees  those  rude  elements  of  civilization 
which  have  now  developed  themselves  into  a  splendid 
capital,  glowing  with  frescoes  and  shining  with  marbles. 
Our  remark  would  apply  with  similar  force  to  St. 
Petersburg,  fighting  its  way  into  supremacy  against 
the  frowns  of  nature  in  winter,  and  its  hard,  dry  smile 
in  summer,  while  the  Neva  thunders  forth  a  vain  but 
tremendous  protest  as  soon  as  its  frost-shackles  are 
riven  in  the  spring.  It  is  true  that  there  are  brilliant 
refutations  of  this  theory:  such  as  Naples,  with  its 
perfect  dower  of  beauty,  or  Florence,  scarcely  less 
bountifully  endowed  by  the  hand  of  the  Creator.  But 
one  of  the  most  marked  exceptions  to  the  general  rule 
is  to  be  found  in  Innsbruck,  the  little  mountain  metrop- 
olis of  the  Tyrol.  It  is  a  perfect  gem,  this  small  city 
of  Innsbruck ;  and  it  is  deeply  set  in  such  a  circlet  of 
magnificent  mountains,  as  scarcely  another  capital  in 
the  world  may  boast.  The  River  Inn,  which  has  been 
making  its  willful  way  through  one  profound  valley 
after  another,  is  here  spanned  by  a  bridge,  which  gives 
its  name  to  the  little  city  [Innsbruck)  standing  on  its 
green  banks.  Mountains  6000  and  8000  feet  high 
gather  around  the  town,  as  if  to  keep  watch  and  ward 
about  its  walls.  Indeed,  so  close  is  their  vigil,  that  it 
is  said  the  wolves  can  look  down  into  the  streets  be- 
neath their  own  craggy  fastnesses,  and  speculate  in 
their  hungry  minds  upon  which  of  the  portly  burghers 
and  of  the  plump /rai/Zems  they  would  like  to  sup.  In 
truth,  one  of  the  most  impressive  features  in  the  Tyrol 


THE    RESCUE.  239 

is  the  suddenness  of  the  spring  which  is  made  bj  the 
mountains  from  the  deepest  depth  of  the  valleys.  You 
may  draw  your  finger  along  the  very  line  where  the 
foot  of  some  mountain,  which  wears  its  silver  coronet 
on  its  royal  brow  10,000  feet  above  you,  is  planted  in 
the  green  vale  below.  And  thus,  from  the  ground- 
floor  of  your  hotel  in  Innsbriick,  which  was  once  the 
house  of  the  patriot  Hofer,  you  look  up  to  the  roofs  of 
the  six-storied  houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ex- 
tremely narrow  street,  and  you  see  the  white  forehead 
of  a  mighty  mountain  serenely  looking  down  upon  you, 
where  you  thought  to  see  naught  but  a  narrow  strip  of 
blue  ether,  or  the  light  wing  of  some  roving  cloud. 

But  the  charm  of  Innsbruck  lies  not  only  in  its  glit- 
tering peaks,  with  their  dark  girdle  of  pine  forest 
clasped  by  shining  glaciers,  and  draped  around  their 
feet  with  festooned  vines  and  golden  fringes  of  maize. 
You  feel  that  history  has  made  an  atmosphere  of  its 
own  around  you,  other  than  that  which  is  woven  of  the 
fleecy  mists  of  the  valley,  or  elastic  with  the  pure 
ether  of  the  mountain-top.  Let  us  take  our  stand  for  a 
moment  in  the  whispering  gallery  of  the  past,  and  catch 
some  few  of  the  echoes  which  are  vibrating  in  the  air. 


THE   EESCUE. 

You  are  standing  on  a  narrow,  thread-like  road, 
which  has  barely  room  to  draw  itself  along  between 
the  rocky  bank  of  the  River  Inn,  and  the  base  of  a 
frowning  buttress  of  the  Solstein,  which  towers  many 
hundred  feet  perpendicularly  above  you.     You  throw 


210  -      INNSBRUCK  AND   ITS    ECHOES. 

your  head  far  back,  and  look  up ;  and  there  you  have 
a  vision  of  a  plumed  hunter,  lofty  and  chivalrous  in  his 
bearing,  who  is  bounding  heedlessly  on  after  a  chamois 
to  the  very  verge  of  the  precipice.  Mark ! — he  loses 
his  footing — he  rolls  helplessly  from  rock  to  rock! 
There  is  a  pause  in  his  headlong  course.  What  is  it 
that  arrests  him?  Ah,  he  puts  forth  his  mighty 
strength,  and  clings,  hand  and  foot,  with  the  gripe 
of  despair,  to  a  narrow  ledge  of  rock,  and  there  he 
hangs  over  the  abyss !  It  is  the  Emperor  Maximilian ! 
The  Abbot  of  Wiltau  comes  forth  from  his  cell,  sees 
an  imperial  destiny  suspended  between  heaven  and 
earth,  and  crossing  himself  with  awe,  bids  prayers 
be  put  up  for  the  welfare  of  a  passing  soul.  Hark ! 
There  is  a  wild  cry  ringing  through  the  upper  air! 
Ha!  Zyps  of  Zirl,  thou  hunted  and  hunting  outlaw, 
art  thou  out  upon  the  heights  at  this  fearful  moment  ? 
Watch  the  hardy  mountaineer!  He  binds  his  cram- 
pons on  his  feet ;  he  is  making  his  perilous  way  toward 
his  failing  emperor,  now  bounding  like  a  hunted  chamois, 
now  creeping  like  an  insect,  now  clinging  like  a  root  of 
ivy,  now  dropping  like  a  squirrel.  He  reaches  the  faint- 
ing monarch  just  as  he  relaxes  his  grasp  on  the  jutting 
rock.  Courage,  kaiser !  [emperor]  there  is  a  hunter's 
hand  for  thee,  a  hunter's  iron-shod  foot  to  guide  thee 
to  safety.  Look!  They  clamber  up  the  face  of  the 
rock  on  points  and  ledges,  where  scarce  the  small  hoof 
of  the  chamois  might  find  a  hold :  and  the  peasant  folk 
still  maintain  that  an  angel  came  down  to  their  mas- 
ter's rescue.  We  will,  however,  refer  the  marvelous 
escape  to  the  interposing  hand  of  a  pitying  Providence. 
Zyps  the  outlaw  becomes  "  Count  Hallooer  von  Hohen- 


THE   RUN.  241 

felsen,"  ("Lord  of  the  wild  crj  of  the  lofty  rock;") 
and  in  the  old  pension-list  of  the  proud  house  of  Haps- 
burg  may  still  be  seen  an  entry  to  this  effect,  that  six- 
teen florins  were  paid  annually  to  "one  Zyps  of  Zirl." 
As  you  look  up  from  the  base  of  the  Martinswand,  you 
may  with  pains  distinguish  a  cross  which  has  been 
planted  on  the  narrow  ledge  where  the  emperor  was 
rescued  by  the  outlaw. 


THE    RUN. 

Here  is  another  vision,  an  imperial  one  also.  The 
night  is  dark  and  wild.  Gusty  winds  come  howling 
down  from  the  mountain  passes,  driving  sheets  of  blind- 
ing rain  before  them,  and  whirling  them  round  in  hiss- 
ing eddies.  At  intervals  the  clouds  are  rent  asunder, 
and  the  moon  takes  a  hurried  look  at  the  world  below. 
What  does  she  see?  and  what  can  we  hear?  for  there 
are  other  sounds  stirring  beside  the  ravings  of  the 
tempest  in  that  wild  cleft  of  the  mountains  which 
guard  Innsbruck  on  the  Carinthian  side.  There  is  a 
hurried  tramp  of  feet,  a  crowding  and  crushing  up 
through  the  steep  and  narrow  gorge,  a  mutter  of  sup- 
pressed voices,  a  fitful  glancing  of  torches,  which  now 
flare  up  bravely  enough,  now  wither  in  a  moment  before 
the  derisive  laugh  of  the  storm.  At  the  head  of  the 
melee  there  is  a  litter  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  a  set 
of  sure-footed  hunters  of  the  hills;  and  around  this 
litter  is  clustered  a  moving  constellation  of  lamps, 
which  are  anxiously  shielded  from  the  rude  wrath  of 
the  tempest.     A  group  of  stately  figures,  wrapped  in 

21 


242  INNSBRUCK    AND    ITS    ECHOES. 

rich  military  cloaks,  with  helms  glistening  in  the  torch- 
light, and  plumes  streaming  on  the  wind,  struggles  on- 
ward beside  the  litter.  And  who  is  this  reclining  there, 
his  teeth  firmly  set  to  imprison  the  stifled  groan  of 
physical  anguish?  He  is  but  fifty-three  years  of  age, 
but  the  lines  of  premature  decay  are  plowed  deep 
along  brow  and  cheek,  while  his  yellow  locks  are 
silvered  and  crisped  with  care.  Who  can  mistake  that 
full,  expansive  forehead,  that  aquiline  nose,  that  cold, 
stern,  blue  eye,  and  that  heavy,  obstinate  Austrian 
under-lip,  for  other  than  those  of  the  mighty  Emperor 
Charles  V.?  And  can  this  sufiering  invalid,  fiying 
from  foes  who  are  almost  on  the  heels  of  his  attend- 
ants, jolted  over  craggy  passes  in  midnight  darkness, 
bufi'eted  by  the  tempest,  and  withered  by  the  sneer 
of  adverse  fortune — can  this  be  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, King  of  Spain,  Lord  of  the  Netherlands,  of 
Naples,  of  Lombardy,  and  proud  chief  of  the  golden 
Western  world?  Yes,  Charles,  thou  art  reading  a 
stern  lesson  by  that  fitful  torch-light ;  but  thy  strong 
will  is  yet  unbent,  and  thy  stern  nature  yet  unsoftened. 
And  who  is  the  swift  "avenger  of  blood,"  who  is  fol- 
lowing close  as  a  sleuth-hound  on  the  track?  It  is 
Maurice  of  Saxony,  the  unscrupulous  but  intrepid 
leader  of  the  Protestant  cause — a  match  for  thee  in 
boldness  of  daring  and  in  strength  of  will.  But 
Charles  wins  the  midnight  race;  and  yet,  instead 
of  bowing  before  Him  whose  "  long-sufiering  would 
lead  to  repentance,"  he  ascribes  his  escape  to  the 
"star  of  Austria"  ever  in  the  ascendant,  and  mut- 
ters his  favorite  sentiment,  "Myself  and  the  lucky 
moment." 


THE   BRIBE.  243 

THE    BRIBE. 

Now  turn  into  the  Hof-Kirche  in  Innsbriick.  Here 
stands  a  most  remarkable  tomb,  prepared  for  himself 
by  the  Emperor  Maximilian  I.,  but  never  destined  to 
receive  his  royal  dust.  A  colossal  band  of  twenty- 
eight  bronze  statues  forms  a  solemn  avenue  leading  up 
to  a  sarcophagus  of  exquisitely  sculptured  Carrara 
marble,  surmounted  by  the  kneeling  effigy  of  the  mon- 
arch. These  giants  of  old  are  all  held  to  have  borne 
relationship  to  the  proud  house  of  Hapsburg.  But 
the  links  of  consanguinity  must  have  been  sorely 
strained  to  embrace  all  these  dark  watchers  of  the 
royal  tomb.  They  would  seem  to  have  been  grouped 
pretty  much  at  random  from  the  dusty  sepulchres  of 
Time,  and  to  have  hurried  hither,  by  mysterious  con- 
sent, to  keep  tryst  and  hold  vigil  round  the  empty 
tomb  of  their  kinsman.  Here  is  old  Clovis,  ancestral 
sire  of  France;  Theodoric,  barbaric  king  of  the  Os- 
trogoths ;  Godfrey,  come  home  from  Palestine  to  assert 
brotherhood  with  Austria;  and  Arthur,  our  own  chiv- 
alrous Arthur  of  Britain,  all  banded  tegether,  with 
Rudolph  of  Hapsburg  and  his  stately  line,  in  holding 
this  solemn  chapter  of  the  dead. 

But  watch  that  peasant-man:  a  bold  chamois  hunter 
he  would  seem  to  be.  See  how  he  turns  away  from 
this  stately  procession  of  Old  World  heroes,  and 
stands  riveted  in  mute  reverence  before  the  simple 
tomb  of  Hofer !  The  dust  of  summer  travel  is  on  his 
feet  and  on  his  hot  brow;  but  he  knows  no  weariness 
while  he  stands,  long  and  fixedly,  before  the  marble 
effigy  of  his   peasant  patriot.     The  pointed  hat.  with 


244  INNSBRUCK   AND   ITS   ECHOES. 

its  eagle's  feather  and  its  bouquet  of  mountain  flowers, 
which  he  holds  in  his  strong  hand,  is  shaking  with  his 
silent  emotion :  and  presently  the  great  round  tear,  fresh 
and  clear  as  the  rill  which  trickles  from  the  crystal  urn 
of  his  own  glacier,  rolls  slowly  down  his  weather-stained 
cheek.  Let  us  challenge  the  mournful  thoughts  which 
have  filled  thy  eye  and  mind,  thou  hunter  of  the  hills. 

Canst  see,  in  the  far  distance,  that  humble  village 
inn  on  the  banks  of  the  Passeyer,  with  its  sign  of  the 
crown  and  the  name  of  "Hofer"  over  the  door?  And 
dost  thou  see  a  plain  and  thoughtful  man  on  its  thresh- 
old— listening,  and  resolving — while  there  comes  creep- 
ing up  the  valley  the  distant  mutter  of  the  gathering 
tempest  of  invasion?  That  meditative  man  disap- 
pears ;  but  it  is  to  scale  the  heights,  chamois-like,  and 
to  drop  down  in  some  distant  valley.  Five  times  in 
one  year  shall  the  victorious  legions  of  France,  which 
have  left  the  print  of  their  iron  heel  on  the  sod  of  every 
European  country — save  one — five  times  in  one  year 
shall  they  be  driven  forth  from  the  valleys  of  the 
Tyrol;  and  this  is  Hofer's  work. 

But  the  scene  changes :  look  again.  That  same  man, 
worn  and  sorrowful,  is  hiding  in  a  wretched  chalet  on 
the  very  edge  of  the  glacier  which  guards  the  wild  pass 
of  the  Timber  Joch.  A  peasant-man  now  and  then 
creeps  up  the  steep  height,  with  just  such  slender  store 
of  food  as  may  sustain  life  in  that  hunted  patriot. 
And  now  we  know  why  the  breast  of  the  chamois- 
hunter,  who  is  standing  before  the  tomb  in  the  Hof- 
Kirche,  is  heaving  with  indignant  grief  For,  listen ! 
There  is  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  thousand  French  sol- 
diers, who  are  swarming  up  the  pass,  and  silently  sur- 


THE    RUIN.  245 

rounding  the  chalet.  How  can  strangers  have  learnt 
these  almost  inaccessible  paths,  and  who  can  have 
mapped  out  for  their  guidance  the  rock,  and  the  ledge, 
and  the  pine  lying  across  the  torrent,  and  the  bridge 
of  ice  over  the  unfathomed  gulf,  which  have  led  right 
upward  to  the  heather  bed  in  the  chalet  where  Hofer 
quietly  sleeps  in  the  very  shadow  of  death?  Shame! 
It  is  a  plumed  and  belted  man  of  the  Tyrol  who  is 
pointing  upward  with  a  shaking  finger,  while  he  turns 
away  his  false  face  from  the  light  of  the  early  morning. 
That  man's  pocket  was  heavy  with  French  gold !  Ay, 
it  will  feel  heavy  enough,  wlien  he  sees  him  led  off  in 
chains,  and  when  he  hears,  three  weeks  after,  that 
Hofer  the  Patriot  was  shot  at  Mantua  by  order  of 
Napoleon. 


THE   EUIN. 

One  more  scene:  it  is  the  year  1809.  Bonaparte 
has  decreed,  in  the  secret  council-chamber,  where  his 
own  will  is  his  sole  adviser,  that  the  Tyrol  shall  be 
cleared  of  its  troublesome  nest  of  warrior-hunters. 
Ten  thousand  French  and  Bavarian  soldiers  have  pene- 
trated as  far  as  the  Upper  Innthal,  and  are  pushing 
boldly  on  toward  Prutz.  But  the  mountain-walls  of 
this  profound  valley  are  closing  gloomily  together,  as 
if  they  would  forbid  even  the  indignant  river  to  force 
its  wild  way  betwixt  them.  Is  there  a  path  through 
the  frowning  gorge  other  than  that  rocky  way  which 
is  fiercely  held  by  the  torrent?  Yes;  there  is  a  nar- 
row road  painfully  grooved  by  the  hand  of  man  out  of 
the  mountain  side,  now  running  along  like  a  gallery, 

21* 


246  INNSBRUCK  AND   ITS   ECHOES. 

now  dropping  down  to  the  brink  of  the  stream.  But 
the  glittering  array  winds  on.  There  is  the  heavy  tread 
of  the  foot-soldiers,  the  trampling  of  horse,  the  dull 
rumble  of  the  guns,  the  waving  and  flapping  of  the 
colors,  and  the  angry  remonstrance  of  the  Inn.  But 
all  else  is  still  as  a  midnight  sleep,  except  indeed  when 
the  eagles  of  the  crag,  startled  from  their  eyries,  raise 
their  shrill  cry  as  they  spread  their  living  wing  above 
the  gilded  eagles  of  France.  Suddenly  a  voice  is  heard 
far  Up  amid  the  mists  of  the  heights — not  the  eagle's 
cry  this  time — not  the  freak  of  a  wayward  echo — but 
human  words,  which  say,  ''''Shall  we  begin  f  Silence! 
It  is  a  host  that  holds  its  breath  and  listens.  Was  it  a 
spirit  of  the  upper  air  parleying  with  its  kind  ?  If  so, 
it  has  its  answer  countersigned  across  the  dark  gulf. 
'•'Noch  niohtF' — not  yet!  The  whole  invading  army 
pauses ;  there  is  a  wavering  and  writhing  in  the  glitter- 
ing serpent-length  of  that  mighty  force  which  is  help- 
lessly uncoiled  along  the  base  of  the  mountain.  But 
hark !  the  voice  of  the  hills  is  heard  again,  and  it  says, 
"iVbz^;/"  Now  then  descends  the  wild  avalanche  of 
destruction,  and  all  is  tumult,  dismay,  and  death!  The 
very  crags  of  the  mountain-side,  loosened  in  prepara- 
tion, come  bounding,  thundering  down.  Trunks  and 
roots  of  pine-trees,  gathering  speed  on  their  headlong 
way,  are  launched  down  upon  the  powerless  foe,  min- 
gled with  the  deadly  hail  from  the  Tyrolese  rifles. 
And  this  fearful  storm  descends  along  the  whole  line 
at  once.  No  marvel  that  two-thirds  of  all  that  bril- 
liant invading  army  are  crushed  to  death  along  the 
grooved  pathway,  or  are  tumbled,  horse  and  man,  into 
the  choked  and  swollen  river.     Enough  of  horrors! 


THE    RUIN.  247 

Who  would  willingly  linger  on  the  hideous  details  of 
such  a  scene  ?  Sorrowful  that  man  should  come,  with 
his  evil  ambitions  and  his  fierce  revenges,  to  stain  and 
to  spoil  such  wonders  of  beauty  as  the  hand  of  the 
Creator  has  here  molded.  Sorrowful  that  man,  in 
league  with  the  Serpent,  should  writhe  into  such  scenes 
as  these,  and  poison  them  with  the  virus  of  sin. 


TTSITV^-^ 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
THIS    BOOK   ON    THE   DATE   DUE.    THE   PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND    TO     $1.00    ON    THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

Aiirs  IS  1938 

aUN  2     ZUOO 

LD  21-100m-8,'34 

5^^  05 


r 


